"Your honour has hit it," said the man, laughing.
"And is this all you know of him?"
"All and whole entirely, Sir Oliver."
"Very well--here"----
The commodore had filled a very sufficing tumbler of grog, and handed
it to the Serjeant of marines. The man _now_ unbent, stept into the
cabin--wiped his mouth with the back of his large brown paw, and then,
looking as sheepish as need be, seized the tumbler in his right
hand--"Sir Oliver--and gentlemen all"--and swigging it off, he once
more raised his hand to the brim of his chapeau--turned round on his
heels, and marched out of the cabin.
About six in the evening, I returned on board the Midge, which had hove
to, so soon as she noticed the frigate do so. As soon as we got on
deck, and the boat was hoisted up, Lanyard desired the gunner, who had
the watch, to bear up again in the wake of the commodore, for whom he
was to keep a bright look out.
For a week we had beautiful weather, although the wind continued very
light, so that we had almost daily communication with the frigate, and
had the happiness of seeing even poor Donovan on deck again. As we
widened our distance from the abominable coast, all hands seemed to
improve astonishingly, so that by the seventh day after we had taken
our departure, there was not a sick man in the ship.
The weather had during all this time been invariably fine, but on this
Sunday evening, it had become very much overcast right a-head. Sir
Oliver had in the forenoon, at Lanyard's and the youngster's own
request, spared him _Mister_ Peak, the midshipman already mentioned, a
very wicked little Irish rascal, but a nice boy notwithstanding. He
now stood beside me on the felucca's deck.
"A very heavy bank that, sir, right a-head as we are steering," said
little Joey.
"Very," said I--"but I don't think there is any wind in it, Mr Peak."
Gradually the dark clouds rose up and up, until they reached the
zenith--we appeared to be entering into a gigantic black arch--under
whose dark shade the frigate, about a mile on our lee bow, had already
slid and become undistinguishable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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