"Cut the cable!" he barked. "Set studdin-sails alow and aloft! Inboard side-lights! Boniface, take a party of small-arm men forrad, and keep a sharp look-out!" Before the riding-officer had dropped into the dinghy, the _Tremendous_ began to slap the water, shaking out ragged topsails as she slid out of the harbour, a misty rain shrouding her. "There's a row-boat coming up astern, sir," ventured the boy--"rowing like mad." "I have ears, sir, and I'm usin em," snapped the other, and stumped forward, leaning heavily on a stick, thick and surly as himself. They were the first words he had spoken to the lad, this block-of-granite little man, across whose knees his father had died at St. Vincent; and the boy did not find them encouraging. "Send im victoriush, Appee and gloriush, Long to reign o er--i--ush, Goshave---- "Uncle George!" bawled a bibulous voice. "Row, ye devil, row!--or I'll split y'up, and chuck y'overboard." A boat pelted up under the counter of the sloop. The singer rose suddenly, clutched at a man-rope, and came swinging up the side. The light of the binnacle-lamp fell upon him. He was a tall fellow, with bushy black whiskers, a long tallowy nose that in some old-time battle had been broken, and eyes with a wild wet gleam in them. Now he sheered up against the bulwark, waving riotously. "Three cheers for the lirrel _Tremendous_! Ooray! ray! ray!--We're alf our ship's company short. There's only old Ding-dong left on the quar'er-deck. I'm drunk as David's sow. And we're off to cur out the Grand Armee. Ooray! ray! ray!" and he fell hiccoughing away into foolish laughter. "Hadn't you better go below?" said a pure treble at his side. "You're beastly drunk." The man pulled himself together, and stared through the gloom. "Lumme!" he whispered. "A tottie!--a tottie for Lushy!... Lemme cuddle ye, darlin, _do_." "I'm a midshipman," said the boy briefly. "Shut up; and behave yourself." The man tried to stand up, and swept off his hat. "Ow de do, sir? Ow de do? By all means ow de do? Lemme introjuice you all round. I'm Mr. Lanyon, commonly called Lushy, because? one? me failins: Gunner aboard this packet by rights, and Actin Fust Lieutenant by the grace o God--there bein no one else to act, see? This ere," he continued, smacking the bulwark, "is His--Majesty's--ship--_Tremendous_, well known and respected between the Lizard and the Nore. Not lookin her sauciest just now, I grant you: shrouds tore to tatters, mizzen spliced, bowsprit splintered, plugged fore and aft, and alf her weather bulwark carried away. But that's _ex tempore_, as the sayin is. We only put in at dawn to refit, and land wounded." "Where's she been?" asked the boy.