“Ready! Pull away, men!” he ordered. “Take us back to the ship, coxswain.”
The first cutter of the Monongahela swept over the tumbling waters of Chesapeake Bay under the steady impulse of four pairs of oars.
Lying insensible in the forward part was Nanny. Near him reclined Clif, fully aware of all that was going on about him, but thoroughly exhausted.
Trolley and Joy, members of the boat’s crew, were paying much less attention to their oars than to their chum.
Talking among the men is generally prohibited, but in this case the rule was entirely lost sight of, and the crew conversed freely.
“Him should be Japan,” said Trolley, genuine admiration in his voice. “If boy do that in Japan navy they make him hero. Mikado give medal and all people sing songs.”
“But that is in Japan,” said Clif, with a return of his old winning smile. “Such little tricks are of common occurrence in this country. It happens every day.”
“Indeed it doesn’t,” broke in Joy. “Person might jump overboard, but not from the foretop. It was a lulu of a dive. And then when you touched water you didn’t stay under the surface five seconds.”
A rousing cheer and a tiger greeted the cutter as it swept alongside the gangway. Nanny was passed up and immediately taken to the sick bay. But when it came Clif’s turn, he rejected all aid and climbed up the side as nimbly as of yore.
On reaching the top of the gangway he glanced down upon a sea of enthusiastic, youthful faces. Grouped near the bulwark were twenty plebes. In the front rank were Toggles, Walters and others of Clif’s friends.