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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Liker twenty-nine, an' niver no whistle." "Yes, we always do that. Do you want a tow to Brixham?" said Moorshed. A great silence fell upon those wet men of the sea. We lifted a little toward their side, but our silent, quick-breathing crew, braced and strained outboard, bore us off as though we had been a mere picket-boat. "What for?" said a puzzled voice. "For love; for nothing.
The dingy, which was trusted to for escape, disappeared, perhaps hit by one of these shots. The picket-boat, having done this serious mischief, then hurried ashore and gave the alarm, and quickly the shore batteries were firing on the dark hull. The ships in the harbor echoed the shots with their guns. The Spaniards were alert.
The Dockyard tug, with its freight of hoarse yet still vociferous sailor-men, had weighed her anchor, and moved down to the end of the line preparatory to steaming in the wake of the last race. The Umpire, in the stern of an officious picket-boat, was apparently the only dispassionate participator in the animated scene.
"Jolly rough luck!" commiserated his friend, and joined the stampede for the quarterdeck. In thirty seconds the flat was deserted save for the disconsolate figure swinging his legs. In the meanwhile the picket-boat was driving her way shoreward with the emancipated members of Wardroom and Gunroom clustered on top of the cabin and in the stern sheets.
Which is about as much information as any young woman may reasonably be expected to give another who betrays too lively an interest in her beloved. The Torpedo Lieutenant waved his arm in a gesture of indiscriminate greeting, and the children responded with a fluttering of hands and dancing eyes. The steam pinnace was following hard in the wake of the picket-boat.
Picket-boat alongside at three-thirty for officers." A head emerged from the hood of the after turret. The Gunnery Lieutenant, wearing over-alls, a streak of dirt running diagonally down one cheek, emerged and drew off a greasy glove to wipe his face. "Did I hear you say anything about a seven-bell boat?" The Officer of the Watch nodded. "There's leave from three-thirty to seven p.m.
On through the darkness they went, hitting the channel squarely, and steaming in under the frowning walls of the Morro through gloom and death-like silence. But the Spaniards were not asleep. A small picket-boat came gliding out under the collier’s stern and fired several shots at the suspicious craft. One of these carried away the rudder and spoiled one important item of the plans.
Mainwaring?" inquired a small girl with a white bow over one ear, secretly impressed by Georgina's obvious familiarity with the inspiring figure in the stern sheets of the picket-boat. "Dear Mr. Mainwaring!" repeated Georgina under her breath, gazing rapturously at her idol. White Bow repeated her query. "He's he's Mr. Mainwaring," replied Georgina. "My Mr. Mainwaring."
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