It was three bells in the first watch when the coxswain of the
cutter--whose name was Lobb--went on deck. Some supper and a short
sleep in his hammock had wonderfully refreshed him. The gale had
entirely blown itself out, and the sky was clear and strewn with
brilliant stars, amongst which the Southern Cross and the Centauri
glittered like gorgeous jewels set in lapis lazuli of an indigo tint.
The breeze still held from the westward, and was strong enough to
make the frigate heel over till her shining copper, dripping with
salt spray, was visible on the weather side.
Lobb went to the lee entry-port and gazed out over the phosphorescent
sea. His heart was heavy as he thought of poor Jack Villiers's sad
fate, and mechanically he took off his cap and sought for the pipe
that lay snugly therein.
"A bit of baccy is the thing to soothe a chap what's got a fit of the
blues," he muttered to himself, as he charged his pipe with tobacco.
"I'm jiggered if it wasn't the blackest day in my life when I failed
to pick up that youngster--the brightest young fellow in the ship he
was, and that there ain't no denying."
His meditations were interrupted by the middy of the first watch, a
bright, fair-haired boy, who, eagerly running up to him, exclaimed:
"Oh, Lobb, I wanted to see you so much about----" And he hesitated.
"Ah, it's Mr. Thring," said the coxswain, pausing in the act of
lighting his pipe. "I'm main sorry for you, sir, I can assure you,
for I know right well what chums you and Mr. Villiers were, and it
must strike to your very heart, as one may say."
[Illustration: (Thring and the coxswain)]
Thring's eyes filled with tears, and he felt thankful that it was too
dark for the seaman to observe his emotion. He was quite a
youngster, having joined the "Forte" straight from the "Britannia"
training-ship only a year before our story opens.
"Tell me all that happened, Lobb," he said at length, in a strained
voice. "The captain only gave me a few particulars."
The seaman lit his pipe, and between the puffs told what little there
was to tell. It was little indeed, but Thring listened to the
recital with breathless interest, soothed by the thought that this
rough but soft-hearted sailor was fully in sympathy with him.
"The sea looks so beautiful now," he said, when Lobb had finished his
short story. "No one would believe that it could have----I say,
Lobb"--gripping the seaman's arm--"is it possible that my chum could
have escaped in any way?"
"Nobody could have lived long in that sea," answered the coxswain
sadly; "but don't you take on too much, sir, about this unfortunit
business. What I says to the crew of the cutter I says to you, and
mind you, lay it to heart like a brave youngster: 'We've our duty to
do, mates,' says I, 'and if the Lord calls him we mustn't complain,
He being our Commander-in-Chief, so to speak.'"
There was a long silence.
"I wish we could come across some slavers," said the middy at length;
"I feel as if active service is the only thing that would drive poor
Jack's dreadful fate from my mind."
"We ain't had much luck in that way, sir, have we? But I reckon the
wheel of fortin will turn by-and-by, and we'll get a haul of
prize-money. To-morrow it's like enough we'll be in the latitude of
Cape Joo-joo, and the chances are we'll fall foul of some of these
swabs what earns their living by trading in human flesh."
"If we do, I only hope the fellows will fight," cried Thring, with
flashing eyes.
"I hope so too," said the coxswain, as he knocked the ashes out of
his pipe. "I'm always ready for a scrimmage with them Arab gentry,
for they're the blackest-hearted scoundrels that walk this earth,
there's no mistake about that."
"Four bells, sir!" reported the marine sentry, marching up and
saluting the middy of the watch.
"Make it so," answered young Thring briefly. "Good night, Lobb; I
must go and examine the bow-lights, and take the corporal of the
watch round the decks."
"Right you are, sir. Goodnight, and don't you let your young heart
be frettin' too much, for, if you'll excuse me taking the liberty of
speech, I can't abear to see that bright face of yourn a-clouded
over. Don't forget the Commander-in-Chief when you turns into your
hammock at eight bells."
And carefully stowing his short clay away in his cap, Lobb went
thoughtfully down the main hatchway in search of his own hammock.