“Yes, as mate,” I assented, my downfall coming vividly before me.
“I thought so,” he remarked curiously; “an’ wonder what ye’re doin’ here.”
Before I could reply we were piped to rations, and I was saved from appearing rude by not answering him. The rest of the day was passed in the usual routine of a man-of-war, and by night I had become sufficiently familiar with my duties to perform them as readily and handily as any of my mates. My deftness was no longer a surprise to them, however, for Pete had quickly circulated not only the facts of my sea experience, but the additional fact that I had been an officer on the brig I had just left—though this was a shrewd guess on his part, for I had not mentioned the vessel on which I had served as mate. Greatly amazed that I should leave such a berth to enlist on the frigate as an apprentice, they became certain there was a mystery connected with the incident, which my good luck the following day partially explained.
It came just after our morning rations had been issued. A midshipman came forward, and, calling me by name, said I was wanted at once in the cabin. Surprised at this summons I obeyed, and was ushered into the presence of the Captain, who sat in the same place at the same table, with the same sub-lieutenant opposite him as when I was there before.
“Good morning, Master Dunn,” was his greeting, and he spoke with a heartiness I had not expected.
“Good morning, sir,” I replied politely.
“You were mate on the brig Young Phoenix?” he then asked.
“Yes, sir, second mate,” I admitted, wondering what was coming.
“Did Captain Weston abandon you when the vessel was off the great reef during the night of our recent storm?”
“Yes, sir,” I assented, querying with myself how he could have learned of the fact.