"Sharpe," said Dodd, in a tone that conveyed no suspicion to the
new-comer, "set the royals and flying jib.--Port!"
"Port it is," cried the man at the helm.
"Steer due south!" And, with these words in his mouth, Dodd dived to the
gun-deck.
By this time elastic Sharpe had recovered the first shock, and the order
to crowd sail on the ship galled his pride and his manhood. He muttered
indignantly, "The white feather!" This eased his mind, and he obeyed
orders briskly as ever. While he and his hands were setting every rag the
ship could carry on that tack, the other officers having unluckily no
orders to execute, stood gloomy and helpless, with their eyes glued, by a
sort of sombre fascination, on that coming fate; and they literally
jumped and jarred when Mrs. Beresford, her heart opened by the lovely
day, broke in on their nerves with her light treble.
"What a sweet morning, gentlemen! After all, a voyage is a delightful
thing. Oh, what a splendid sea! and the very breeze is warm. Ah! and
there's a little ship sailing along: here, Freddy, Freddy darling, leave
off beating the sailor's legs, and come here and see this pretty ship.
Pages:
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296