The gig was lowered, and the captain and mail orderly went ashore.
"Now we'll get our real orders," said Potter. "Ho! for the Spanish main," he shouted, forgetting his narrow escape of the day before.
"It will be Ho! for the ship's brig, and Ho! for five days on bread and water, if you don't look out," said "Stump," dryly.
About dark, the gig came back again, bringing the captain in it and the mail orderly—but no mail, and how we did long for a word from home. A scrap of newspaper, even, would be a blessing.
We had just sat down to evening mess when the order, "All hands on the gig falls!" was given, and the master-at-arms chased us off the gun deck. Soon the measured tread of many feet could be heard, and then the order was given by the officer of the deck to the coxswain of the gig, "Secure your boat for sea."
"THE GIG WAS LOWERED" (page 50)
