“Let go the downhauls, and hoist away!” added the executive officer; and at the order up went the jib and flying-jib.
The wind was about north, and the sails were trimmed as they filled. As soon as the Tritonia was fairly under way, her fore-topmast-staysail, fore-top-gallant-sail, and main-gaff-topsail were set. At the same time the order was given to cat and fish the anchor, or hoist it up to the cat-head, and then put it in its usual position when the vessel was at sea.
As the beautiful craft swung around, and the breeze filled her sails, ringing cheers came from the shore and from the men-of-war in the harbor; all of which were returned with vigor by the young tars. With the wind on the beam, the two schooners stood out of the bay, and in a short time were passing through the Strait of Gibraltar. As they went out into the broad ocean, the wind freshened till they were making ten knots an hour. It was study time for the port-watch, and Tom had no chance yet to read his letter.
CHAPTER III.
AN APPROACHING SQUALL.
THE port-watch were on duty from twelve till four in the afternoon; but the second part had their off time for the first two hours. The Tritonia was jumping at a lively pace in the white-capped sea, headed west, a quarter south. O’Hara had been impatiently waiting for this time to come to dive into the mysteries of that London letter. He was more anxious to know the contents of the envelope than Tom was.
As soon as the starboard watch had piped to dinner, the fourth lieutenant led the way to a place on the lee side of the quarter-deck where they could be alone. Tom produced the important letter, and broke the seal. As he had surmised, it contained two other letters, one of them addressed to Mr. Lowington, the principal of the squadron, and the other in the handwriting of his maternal uncle.
“Sure, you can’t deliver that one to Mr. Lowington now,” said O’Hara, looking back to the distant land which would soon be out of sight.
“I am not anxious to deliver it; for I can guess the substance of what it contains,” replied Tom.
“Well, what’s in the letter from London?” asked the lieutenant impatiently.
Tom Speers unfolded the sheet. It was a brief business-like document, hardly covering a page of the paper, though written in a very open hand. It was dated on board steam-yacht Marian, at Southampton, though it had been mailed in London.