“Well, ’bout ship, and propose,” said I; “though sorry to lose the cruise, your happiness shall be the first consideration.”
“Oh, no, no! that will never do,” he answered. “I doubt if she will have me now. When we come back next summer I will find her out, and if she appears to receive me favourably, I will propose. Now she thinks me only a harum-scarum rattler. It would never do.”
I could say nothing to this. I truly believed that though Hearty’s fortune would weigh with most girls, it would but little with her; and I could only hope that in the mean time she would not bestow her affections on any one else.
Just as we got outside the breakwater we sighted a schooner, standing in for the Sound, which we had no difficulty in making out to be the “Popple.” As soon as she discovered us, she bore down on us, signalising away as rapidly as possible.
“What are they saying?” asked Hearty, as he saw the bunting run up to her masthead.
“Heave-to, I want to speak to you,” I answered, turning over the leaves of the signal-book.
“Shall we?” asked Porpoise.
“Oh, by all means,” replied Hearty. “O’Wiggins may have something of importance to communicate.”
“Down with the helm; let fly the jib-sheet; haul the foresail to windward,” sung out Porpoise, and the cutter lay bobbing her head gracefully to the sea, while the schooner approached her.
Still they continued running up and down the bunting on board the “Popple.” I had some difficulty in making out what they intended to say. “Ladies aboard—trust to gallantry,” I continued to interpret, as I made out the words by reference to the book.