all boat?" asked Jack nervously.

"Yes, my boy," said Sir John. "You heard that the captain, said one
would be waiting for us at ten, and it is now nearly that time. Look,
there's a man-o'-war gig coming towards the pier. How well the men look
in their white duck shirts and straw hats, and with the naval officer in
the stern sheets. Those men row splendidly."

They stopped to look at the beautiful little boat glistening and brown
in its varnish, with its three little fenders hanging on either side to
protect it from chafing against boat-side or pier, and its rowlocks of
highly polished gun-metal, and then lost sight of it behind the pier.

"Bringing the officer to land, I suppose," said Sir John. "I dare say
she comes from the _Britannia_."

"No," said the doctor suddenly. "Why that's our captain and our boat."

"Oh no," said Sir John quickly. "That was a regular man-o'-war craft."

"I don't care; it was ours," said the doctor. "You'll see."

He proved to be right, for as they went on to the pier, they saw Captain
Bradleigh climb up from a boat lying out of sight close in, and he came
to meet them.

"Morning, gentlemen," he said. "You are punctuality itself. It's
striking ten. This way. We'll go off at once, while the tide is with
us, and save the lads' arms."

He led them to the end of the pier, where the so-called man-o'-war boat
lay just beneath them, one of the sailors holding on by a boat-hook,
while the other three smart-looking fellows sat quietly waiting on the
thwarts. The gig was in the trimmest of conditions, and looked
perfectly new, while it was set off by a gay scarlet cushion in the
stern sheets, contrasting well with the brown varnished grating ready
for the sitters' feet.

"But we are never going to the yacht in that crazy little boat?"
whispered Jack nervously.

"The sailors came to shore in it," said Sir John quietly, "so why should
we mind?"

"But it seems so slight and thin," faltered the boy to his father.

"Are you afraid, Jack?" asked Sir John gravely. "If so you had better
stay on the pier while we go."

The lad was silent. That he was afraid was plainly written in his
face--plainly, that is, to those who knew him. To a stranger it would
have seemed to be the pallor of his complexion.

Sir John said no more, but made way for Doctor Instow to step down into
the boat, and at a sign he descended and held out his hand to Jack.

"I can manage, thank you," said the l