Gray, his wounds bound, had been laid on the door of the stateroom, which had been taken from its hinges.  On this stretcher, the prisoner was taken over the side into the launch.

“Who’s going to pay for the damage done here, sir?” asked the skipper of the Cobtown schooner, stepping forward.

“Hm!” muttered Jack.  “It seems to me you are lucky, my man, that we don’t put a prize crew aboard this craft and take you back to Norfolk.”

“I haven’t done anything,” protested the fellow, “except to stand for a lot of damage on board because you’re backed by sailors and marines.”

“My man,” retorted Jack, grimly, “if you think you have suffered any unfair damage, then lay your case before the Navy Department.  But my private advice is for you not to attract the attention of the authorities to you in case they seem likely to overlook you.”

“Is my vessel at liberty to proceed?” inquired the man, sullenly.

“Yes; I have no orders to seize your craft.  I’d like to, however,” Lieutenant Jack Benson added, dryly.

CHAPTER XVII

THE LAST HOUR OF COMMAND

Through the night the “Sudbury” rolled lazily over the waves.

A wireless message had carried the news through space to Washington.  Orders had come to return to Norfolk, there turning Gray over to the United States authorities.

Benson and his comrades were instructed to return to Washington with the charts and record books.

Down in a berth in the sick bay, lay Gray.  The hospital steward had made the wounded man as comfortable as possible.  The latter was painfully but not seriously wounded.

At the speed at which the gunboat was now proceeding the “Sudbury” was due at anchorage at six in the morning.

Lieutenant Jack had turned in, after leaving orders that he was to be called a few minutes before five.  He wanted to be on deck to enjoy the sensations of his last hour of command on the cruise of a vessel of the United States Navy.  Forward, the sailors of the watch were talking in low tones of their very youthful officers.

“There’s the real stuff in those boy officers, mates,” grunted one sailor who had been in the boarding party.  “It don’t make any difference whether they’ve been through Annapolis or not.  Look at the way the lieutenant and Mr. Somers went up against the shooting.  Kept us back, and took the medicine themselves, like real officers.”

“You’d expect it of Somers,” rejoined another sailor.  “There’s a bit of the bull-neck about him, and such men always fight.  But the lieutenant makes a real officer that I’d be glad to foller anywhere.”

“Mr. Hastings didn’t get a chance to show what was in him,” suggested another of Uncle Sam’s old salts.

“Oh, you leave Mr. Hastings alone for fighting, if he saw any need to,” retorted the sailor who had been the first to speak.  “He’s one of your very quiet chaps.  Your quiet ones always sail into a fight while a brawler is getting his mouth wound up to do some talking.”