“You are using very unwarrantable language, young gentleman,” was the answer; “I overlook it, as you naturally feel grieved at the loss of your uncle and friend, but I am the person to judge what it is right to do, and I should not have been warranted in risking the lives of the crew, even to attempt saving that of the commander.”
Poor Desmond was silenced, and though quite indifferent to the consequences, he felt that he had already gone further than he ought to have ventured. He was unable to recover his spirits during the remainder of the passage; he could scarcely say whether he was most sorry to lose his uncle or Tom Rogers, who was to him more even than a brother. From their earliest days, with slight intervals, they had been shipmates and friends; then, again, he thought of the grief Tom’s death would cause at Halliburton; and he had a slight inkling of the engagement between Lucy Rogers and his uncle, and having faith in the tender nature of young ladies’ hearts, he fully believed that hers would be broken. He had read Falconer’s Shipwreck, and remembered the lines, “With terror pale unhappy Anna read,” as she received the news of Palaemon’s loss.
At length the ship reached Portsmouth, and was ordered at once to go into harbour. Desmond, to whom the first lieutenant had been very civil during the remainder of the voyage, asked leave to go on shore, that he might communicate the sad news to Admiral Triton, should he be at Southsea, and get him to break it to Tom’s family. The first lieutenant, who also knew of Adair’s engagement to Miss Rogers, very willingly gave him leave; for though he had acted according to the best of his judgment in not making further efforts to pick up his commander, he could not help reflecting that censorious remarks might be made on his conduct, and he was anxious to avoid any bad construction being put upon it.
Gerald hurried on shore, and made his way as fast as he could to Southsea; on reaching the admiral’s house, he was at once admitted, and ushered into the drawing-room, where he found Mrs Deborah and Mrs Murray seated at the tea-table; and almost before he had time to open his mouth, the admiral stumped into the room.
“Who are you?” he asked, examining his features; “I know you—you need not tell me; you are my old friend Paddy Adair’s nephew. I remember him when he was much younger than you are, and your jibs are cut much alike. He sent you up with a message, I suppose—paying off his ship, and couldn’t come himself? We shall see him soon, however; he’d have come fast enough had he supposed that a certain young lady was staying here.”
Not till now could Desmond get in a word.
“I am sorry to say, sir, that I bring very sad news,” answered Gerald; and he briefly described what had occurred. The admiral, who had been standing up, tottered back into a chair as he heard it.
“I won’t believe it!” he exclaimed at last; “your uncle and Tom can’t be lost—poor, poor Lucy! and my friend Sir John and Lady Rogers, they’ll be dreadfully cut up at the loss of that fine youngster, Tom. It mayn’t have been your fault, Desmond, but I wonder you didn’t try and save him.”
“I’d have risked my own life to do so, sir,” answered Gerald; and he explained more fully all that had taken place.
“I must go on board and make inquiries about the affair!” exclaimed the admiral. “Deb, help me on with my greatcoat.”