It was poor
Goddedaal's."
"Bring the bally thing along!" cried the captain.
And they went on deck.
An ugly brute of a modern man-of-war lay just without
the reef, now quite inert, now giving a flap or two
with her propeller. Nearer hand, and just within, a
big white boat came skimming to the stroke of many
oars, her ensign blowing at the stern.
"One word more," said Wicks, after he had taken in the
scene. "Mac, you've been in China ports? All right;
then you can speak for yourself The rest of you I kept
on board all the time we were in Hong Kong, hoping you
would desert; but you fooled me and stuck to the brig.
That'll make your lying come easier."
The boat was now close at hand; a boy in the stern
sheets was the only officer, and a poor one plainly,
for the men were talking as they pulled.
"Thank God, they've only sent a kind of a middy!"
ejaculated Wicks.--"Here you, Hardy, stand for'ard!
I'll have no deck hands on my quarter-deck," he cried,
and the reproof braced the whole crew like a cold
douche.
The boat came alongside with perfect neatness, and the
boy officer stepped on board, where he was respectfully
greeted by Wicks.
Pages:
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669