When I got aboard I sent for my steward.
'How many can I ask to dinner to-night, please, Mobbs?'
'We might do eight, sir,' he allowed, after a time.
'Give my compliments to Mr. Bostock when he comes aboard, and ask him to give me the pleasure of his company at dinner to-night, the same to Mr. Marchant and the five senior midshipmen when they come aboard.'
'Very good, sir,' he said, much annoyed, 'but it won't be what we call a 'igh-class dinner, sir.'
'Tut! tut! That doesn't matter, Mobbs. We'll not grumble,' I told him, as he went away to consult the cook, scratching his head in despair.
We didn't grumble, and I made the Comfort stand behind young Marchant and cut up his meat for him—it was about the only job he was fit for—and we finished the evening in poor little Navarro's cabin trying to cheer him.
He was very down on his luck—poor little chap.
CHAPTER XII
How We fought the Four Point Sevens