"What boat shall I send, sir?" I asked, getting up, for it was time to be off; it was nearly three in the morning.
"Send the other cutter, and Trevelyan; I believe in that chap," he growled. "Umph! You are going to turn in, eh? Umph! All right! I'll write home to the Missus and the Admiral. Don't know when I can send 'em. Umph!"
"Have you read Rashleigh's report?" he asked me, as I was going out. "I've read it again. He don't say much about Trevelyan and Ford."
"No, he doesn't, sir; and I've heard their accounts. They throw rather a fresh light on the loss of the two junks. Well, perhaps not quite that, but they seem to have done better than we thought."
"Umph! Good night! Tell 'em to send their reports to me—to write 'em."
I left him lighting a fresh cigar—a marvellous old chap he was—and warned Trevelyan and his boat's crew before I turned in myself.
On deck they had seen nothing of the two boats, still remaining inshore, and I felt extremely sorry for the drowned rats in them.
CHAPTER X
The Vigilant under Fire
A Foolhardy Undertaking—"Who's Captain?"—Mr. Trevelyan Returns—Taking Precautions—The Skipper's Plans—A Ticklish Job—The Commander's Show—The Skipper's Few Words