As may be supposed, we watched very anxiously for the re-appearance of the corvette, but the sun went down, and we saw nothing of her. However, we had by this time got up apologies for three masts, and, moreover, managed to make sail on them.
It was a great satisfaction to feel the poor little barkie once more slipping through the water, though at a much slower pace than usual.
As I feared, both Bubble and the men who had been wounded began, towards midnight, to complain somewhat of their hurts. While we were all sitting round the table in the cabin at supper, before turning in, Hearty, as Porpoise had done, expressed his regret that Captain Arden had not sent us a surgeon.
“Oh, we didn’t know that any one was hurt,” observed Mr Mite. “But never mind, I understand something of doctoring. I can bleed in first-rate style, I can tell you. Don’t you think I had better try my hand?”
“Thank you, they have been bled enough already, I suspect,” answered Hearty. “I’m afraid no one on board can do much good to them. I only pray the wind may hold, and that we may soon get into Gibraltar.”
But Master Mite was not so easily turned aside from his purpose of trying his hand as a surgeon. He begged hard that he might, at all events, be allowed to examine the men’s wounds.
We of course assured our young friend that we did not doubt his surgical talents; but still declined allowing him to operate on any of the yacht’s crew. We were not sorry, however, to let him take the middle watch, which he volunteered to do, for both Porpoise and I and old Snow were regularly worn out. The wind held fair, and there was not much of it. The night passed away quietly, and when morning broke we saw the corvette standing after us. She had been, as I expected, unsuccessful in her chase of the Greek brig. She had made all sail after a craft which she took for her, but on coming up with the chase, discovered her to be an honest trader laden with corn. She now took us in tow, and in the afternoon we reached the Rock.
Hearty very soon heard that the “Zebra” had gone on to Malta, with Miss Mizen on board, and from the way he received the information, I suspected that his feelings towards her were of a warmer character than I at first supposed. He was very anxious to be away again, and urged on Porpoise to do his utmost to expedite the refitting of the yacht. Fortunately, we were able to procure a spar intended for the mast of a man-of-war schooner, and which was not refused to the application of an MP. In a week the little craft was all to rights again, and once more on her way to that little military hot-house—the far-famed island of Malta.