“If I fail, I fail; but I shall do all I can to win the position.”
“But don’t be a lunatic any longer! Open the letter, and see what’s the matter. Faix I’m dying with curiosity to know what’s in it,” continued the lieutenant.
“One reason why I did not open it before was that I wanted to talk with you about it; for I believe you are the best friend I have in the ship,” said Tom earnestly; for he had a great admiration for his fellow watch-officer.
“Thank you for that. Upon my sowl, I think you are a good fellow, if you are a lunatic on the letter. Take the advice of your best friend on board, and see what’s in that envelope immejitly.”
“I will, since you advise it,” replied Tom, taking the letter from his pocket.
While O’Hara was glancing at the superscription, the boatswain’s whistle sounded through the ship.
“All hands, up anchor!” shouted that officer, after he had piped the call.
Tom Speers grasped the letter, and returned it to his pocket. At the next instant he was at his station, for with his lofty ambition he could not afford to be the last in his place. The first lieutenant was in position on the quarter-deck, with the speaking-trumpet in his hand, though it was an emblem of authority, rather than a useful implement in a quiet time.
“Man the capstan!” said this high official, in moderate tones, considering the magnitude of the position he filled.
The order was repeated by the other officers till it came to the forecastle. Every seaman knew precisely what he was to do in the operation of weighing the anchor; and in a moment the bars were shipped and swiftered. All hands were then in position, and waiting for the next order.