“Don’t think about it,” said Bill; “you are safe from further harm, and will be well taken care of; and when you have recovered, and the war is over, you will be able to go back. I must leave you now, but I will come and see you as often as I can. I have placed the jug of lemonade close to your head, where it cannot slip. When that is gone I will get some more; it is the best thing you can take at present.”
Saying this, Bill hurried back to attend to his duty on deck, for, young as he was, as the prize was short-handed, he had plenty of work to do. Several times he passed Mr Saltwell, who gave him a kind look or said a word or two of encouragement, but did not allude to the service Bill had done him.
“He probably has forgotten all about my having shot the French boatswain,” thought Bill. “I only did my duty, and if anybody else had been in his place I should have done the same.”
The frigate and her fresh prize were meantime making the best of their way across the Channel. As the latter, a fast sailor, was not materially injured, all sail was made on her, and she kept good way with the Thisbe. At the same time there was still the risk of either one or both being taken by a French ship of superior force, though neither was likely to yield without making every effort to escape. A constant look-out was kept from the mast-head, but as the ships got farther and farther from the French coast, the hope of escaping without having again to fight increased.
Several sail were seen in the distance, but it was supposed that they were either merchantmen, standing up or down Channel, in spite of the enemy’s cruisers on the watch to pick them up, or privateers, and, seeing that the Thisbe was a frigate, took good care to keep out of her way.
At length the entrance to Plymouth Sound was descried, and the Thisbe and her prize stood up it triumphantly with colours flying, creating considerable astonishment at her quick return with another capture. Both were soon moored in Hamoaze, when the Atlante, a fine little ship, carrying twenty guns on one deck, was handed over to the prize agents with the full expectation that she would be bought into the service. The prisoners were carried on shore, the wounded men were taken to the hospital, and the prize crew returned on board their own ship.
Bill had been very anxious to accompany Pierre, that he might watch over him with more care than strangers could do, but he had had no opportunity of asking leave of Mr Saltwell.
He had not been long on board the frigate, and was giving an account of the boarding expedition to Jack and Tom, when he heard his name called along the decks.
“Boy Rayner, the captain has sent for you into the cabin,” said the master-at-arms.
“What can you be wanted for!” exclaimed Tom. “Look out for squalls. I shouldn’t like to be in your shoes.”