“That’s the ginerous nature you have, my boy! It’s a wonder you wasn’t born in ould Ireland or Italy.”
“The Tritonia is close aboard of us,” said the officer of the deck, touching his cap to the captain.
“I see she is: slow down, if you please, Mr. Raymond,” replied O’Hara. “We shall soon know now to what port we are bound.”
“I think I can go to sleep when I know that,” added Tom.
The Tritonia had made a long tack in standing off and on; and, when she was at the greatest distance from the Ville d’Angers, the wind had died out. She was rolling in the long swells with all sail set, but making no progress through the water. The Ville d’Angers ran across her wake, and within hailing distance of her.
“On board of the steamer!” called the officer of the deck.
“On board the Tritonia!” replied Raymond, prompted by the captain.
“The captain desires Mr. O’Hara to report in person,” added the officer of the schooner.
“All ready with the third cutter,” said the captain.
The boat was lowered into the water, and pulled off with O’Hara on board. In a few moments he was on the quarter-deck of the Tritonia. Capt. Wainwright had been called when the steamer was made out by the watch, and he immediately came on deck.