"What do you think of this for weather?" said Poole, one morning.
"Isn't it worth sailing right away to get into such seas as this?"
"Yes," said Fitz dreamily, as he lay on one side in his berth with his
hand under his cheek, gazing through the cabin-window at the beautiful
glancing water; "it is very lovely."
"Doesn't it make you feel as if you were getting quite well?"
"I think it would," said the boy, almost as if speaking to himself; "it
would be all right enough if a fellow could feel happy."
"Well," said Poole, "you ought to begin to now. Just see how you've
altered. Father says you are to come up this afternoon as soon as the
heat of the day has passed."
"Come on deck?" cried Fitz, brightening. "Ah! That's less like being a
prisoner."
"A prisoner!" said Poole merrily. "Hark at him! Why, you are only a
visitor, having a pleasant cruise. Father's coming directly," he added
hastily, for he saw the look of depression coming back into the boy's
face. "He says this is the last time he shall examine your head, and
that you won't want doctoring any more. Come, isn't that good news
enough for one morning?"
Fitz made no reply, but lay with his face contracting, evidently
thinking of something else.
"As soon as he's gone," continued Poole, "I am going to bring the lines
and some bait. Old Butters said you could have them as much as you
liked. Don't turn gruff again this time and say you don't want to try."