The boy who acted as steward brought him in his portion of beef, which had been saved, and I followed Growl, whose watch it was on deck. The sea had got up considerably, and the cutter was heeling over to the rapidly increasing breeze. An exclamation from Growl made me look anxiously ahead for the lugger.
“Where is she?” he asked of the quartermaster, who had charge of the deck.
“Just slipped into that bank of clouds gathering in the southward, sir,” was the answer.
“Can any of you see her,” he inquired of the people on deck.
“No, sir, no; not a sign of her,” said several voices.
“Then we shan’t see her again this cruise,” he exclaimed.
No more we did. We followed her, notwithstanding, for some hours, when darkness approaching and the wind increasing, we were obliged to bear up and run into Weymouth, where we anchored at a late hour in the night. The next day we buried our two shipmates, and a surgeon came off to attend to the wounded ones, whom he took on shore with him. A gale got up, which lasted three days, during which time we remained at anchor, ready, as soon as it should moderate, to put to sea again in quest of Myers. The engagement with the smuggler made a good deal of noise, we heard. Some said that we ought to have taken her; others, that our Commander was not a man to leave undone what could have been done. However, as no one had any doubt that Myers was in command of the lugger, a large reward was offered to whoever would give information that might lead to his apprehension, and a still larger to the person who should place him, bound, in the hands of justice. One evening, after dark, a small boat came alongside, with a single man in her. I was on deck.
“Is Lieutenant O’Flaherty on board?” asked the man.
I told him he was.
“Then,” said the stranger, springing on board, “take this note to him, young gentleman, and say the bearer waits to see him.”