"There are shoals of bonito about, and the Camel can dress them fine.
You don't know how good they are, freshly caught and fried."
Fitz made an impatient gesture.
"How soon is your father coming below?" he said.
"Oh, he may be down any moment. He and Mr Burgess are taking
observations overhead and calculating our course."
"Then he won't be very long," said Fitz.
"Oh no. Want to speak to him?"
"Yes, particularly."
Poole gave the speaker a sharp look, which evidently meant, I wonder
what he wants to say.
At that moment the boys' eyes met, and Fitz said, as if to evade a
question--
"Don't you learn navigation--take observations, and that sort of thing?"
"Oh yes, lots of it; but I have been having a holiday since you've been
on board. So have you. It must be quite a change after your busy life
on board a gunboat, drilling and signalling, and all that sort of
thing."
Fitz was hearing him speak, but listening intently all the time, so that
he gave an eager start and exclaimed--
"Here's your father coming now."
For steps were plainly heard on the companion-ladder, and the next
minute the door was thrust open, and the bluff-looking skipper entered
the cabin.
"Morning, sir," he cried. "How are we this morning? Oh, it doesn't
want any telling. You are getting on grandly. Did Poole tell you I
wanted you to come up on deck this afternoon?"
"Yes, sir; thank you. I feel a deal better now, only my legs are very
weak when I try to stand up holding on by my berth."
"Yes, I suppose so," said the skipper, sitting down by the boy's head
and watching him keenly. "You are weak, of course, but it's more
imaginary than real. Any one who lays up for a week or two would feel
weak when he got out of bed."
"But my head swims so, sir."
"Exactly. That's only another sign. You are eating well now, and
getting quite yourself. But I am going to prescribe you another dose."
"Physic?" said Fitz, with a look of disgust.
"Yes, fresh air physic. I want you to take it very coolly for the next
few days, but to keep on deck always except in the hottest times. In
another week you won't know yourself."
"Hah!" ejaculated the boy. "Then now, sir--don't think me ungrateful,
for nobody could be kinder to me than you and Poole here have shown
yourselves since I have been aboard."
"Thank you, my lad, for both of us," said the skipper, smiling
good-humouredly. "I am glad you give such ruffians as we are so good a
character. But you were going to say something."
"Yes, sir," said the boy excitedly, and he cleared his voice, which had
grown husky.
"Go on, then. You are beating about the bush as if you had some favour
to ask. What is it?"
"I want," cried Fitz excitedly, and his cheeks flushed and eyes
flashed--"I want you, sir," he repeated, "now that you say I'm better
and fit to get about--"
"On deck," said the skipper dryly.
"Oh yes, and anywhere as soon as this giddiness has passed off... I
want you now, sir, to set me ashore."
"Hah! Yes," said the skipper slowly. "I knew we were coming to that."
"Why, of course, sir. Think of what I must have suffered and felt."
"I thought Poole here had done his best to make you comfortable, my
lad."
"Oh yes, and he has, sir," cried the boy, turning to look full in his
attendant's eyes. "He has been a splendid fellow, sir. Nobody could
have been kinder to me than he has, even at my worst times, when I was
so ill and irritable that I behaved to him like a surly brute."
"It's your turn now, Poole," growled the skipper, "to say `Thank you'
for that."
"But you must feel, sir, how anxious and worried I must be--how eager to
get back to my ship. In another day or two, Captain Reed, I shall be
quite well enough to go. Promise me, sir, that you will set me ashore."
The skipper had pursed up his lips as if he were going to whistle for
the wind, and he turned his now frowning face to look steadfastly at his
son, who met his eyes with a questioning gaze, while the midshipman
looked anxiously from one to the other, as if seeking to catch an
encouraging look which failed to come.
At last the boy broke the silence again, trying to speak firmly; but,
paradoxically, weakness was too strong, and his voice sounded cracked as
he cried, almost pitifully--
"Oh, Captain Reed! Promise me you will now set me ashore!"
The skipper was silent for a few moments, before turning his face slowly
to meet the appealing look in the boy's eyes.
"Set you ashore?" he said gruffly.
"Yes, sir, please. Pray do!"