In the afternoon, the brig and her prize ran up Plymouth Sound; and as she had killed and wounded and prisoners to land, and repairs to make good, instead of sailing at once, as had been intended, she had to wait several days.
True Blue’s gallant conduct had been observed both by the first lieutenant and the master, and when the Captain came on board it was reported to him.
“I think I must know the man,” he observed. “A fine young fellow—an old shipmate of mine in the Ruby.”
True Blue was sent for. The recognition was mutual. He told his story, and described also how he had been at the former capture of the Vengeur.
“I do not doubt a word you say,” said the Captain. “Still, here you are. I am unwilling to lose you, and am not compelled to release you. I will give you any rating you like to select in the ship.”
“Thank you, sir, heartily,” answered True Blue; “but I belong to the Gannet, and have no right to desert her, and have all my best friends aboard her. I would rather be put ashore to join her as soon as I can.”
“But I cannot take any man’s word for such a statement,” answered the Captain. “If it were known, I should have all the pressed men coming to me with long yarns, which it might be difficult to disprove.”
“Then, sir, perhaps you will take Sir Henry Elmore’s word for it. You know his handwriting, I daresay. I got this letter from him a few days ago;” and True Blue handed in the note, somewhat crumpled, which the young baronet had sent, saying that he had obtained longer leave for him.
“That is sufficient warrant to me in allowing you to leave me, if we fall in with the Gannet,” observed the Captain, who was a man never inclined, whether right or wrong, to yield a point.
True Blue felt that he was cruelly wronged; still he hated the notion of running from the ship. Others put it into his head, but he would not accept it. “No, I have been unfairly taken, and I will be properly released,” he said to himself. “I’ll do what is right, whatever comes of it.”