Truscott had been let into the secret an hour before, and he and the chief boatswain's mate asked the Skipper if he would mind accepting it.
"Mind accepting it?" he roared, when he'd read the inscription on the brass plate, and "Blucher" had sniffed round the wheels, "Mind accepting it? I'm proud to accept it, and the missus will be prouder still. Umph! You're a darned set of rascals! But that plate, wants something added to it. How about 'Recaptured from the Ringdove'?"
The men all laughed and guffawed. They were as pleased as "Punch".
"There is something I'd like to have on that gun," he growled, more gently—"the names of those of us who were killed; and if the Commander and the chief bo's'n's mate will see to that, 'Old Lest''ll take it home with him. Umph! When we get home I'm going to try to get you a week's extra leave—for your active service—if none of you give the Commander any trouble at Portsmouth."
The men were dismissed, and crowded for'ard, as happy as kings, and I heard the Skipper growl to, old Truscott, "Umph! you rascal, waited till we got off the China station, did you? Umph!"
"I knew nothing about it till this morning, I assure you, sir," he answered.
"Umph!" he grunted to me, "you're looking mighty pleased with yourself. What did you have to do with it, eh?"
"I did happen to lend a hand at hoisting in something very like it, sir."
"You're a disgrace to the marines," he growled, and went below grandly pleased.
* * * * *