The Revenge was the last to leave Plymouth harbour, for, being commanded by the vice-admiral, her place was in the rear. But her sailing powers were greater than those of any other ship in the squadron, and she might easily have overhauled her fastest consort had her master so willed. Some of the heavily-laden victuallers were overtaken even at the mouth of Plymouth Sound. One of them, the Pilgrim, was close beside her as they entered the open sea at sunset-time, and Gilbert Oglander, who was at the moment climbing down the ladder stairs from the quarter-deck, paused in his descent and looked over the bulwarks down upon her decks. He could see the faces of her crew. He could see Captain Whiddon on her poop deck, pacing to and fro from rail to rail.
Gilbert was wondering why it was that seamen invariably had this habit, when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by sounds from behind him on the upper deck. He turned, and saw a little crowd of men at the foot of the main-mast. Some of them were laughing, others were loudly talking as they bent over some object on the deck that seemed to be the cause of their concern. As Gilbert approached the crowd broke up, and he perceived old Jacob Hartop standing there holding a little boy by the ear.
"AY, BUT HOW CAME YE ABOARD, MY LAD?"
"Ay, but how came ye aboard, my lad?" Jacob was asking, looking into the boy's tearful face.
"In a boat, so please you, sir," replied the boy. "In the same boat with yourself, Master Hartop."
"Nay, but I saw you not," returned Jacob. "I saw you not, else, be assured, I'd have sent you back instanter to your mother. What think you the poor soul will do when she findeth you have not come home?"
"I had but one thought," said the lad, looking up, "and that was to get on board the Revenge with Master Gilbert Oglander."