The first time the pressed men were mustered Don was well prepared.
"You leave it to me, Jem," he whispered. "I'll wait till our turn
comes, and then I shall speak out to the officer and tell him how we've
been treated."
"You'd better make haste, then, Mas' Don, for if the thing keeps on
moving like this, I sha'n't be able to stand and hear what you have to
say."
For a good breeze was blowing from the south coast, sufficient to make
the waves curl over, and the sloop behave in rather a lively way; the
more so that she had a good deal of canvas spread, and heeled over and
dipped her nose sufficiently to admit a great wave from time to time to
well splash the forward part of the deck.
Don made no reply, for he felt white, but he attributed it to the mental
excitement from which he suffered.
There were thirty pressed men on deck, for the most part old sailors
from the mercantile marine, and these men were drafted off into various
watches, the trouble to the officers being that of arranging the fate of
the landsmen, who looked wretched in the extreme.
"'Pon my word, Jones," said a smart-looking, middle-aged man in uniform,
whom Don took to be the first lieutenant, "about as sorry a lot of
Bristol sweepings as ever I saw."
"Not bad men, sir," said the petty officer addressed. "Wait till
they've shaken down into their places."
"Now's your time, Mas' Don," whispered Jem. "Now or never."
Don was on the alert, but just as the officer neared them the vessel
gave a sudden pitch, and of the men standing in a row the minute before,
not one remained upon his feet. For it seemed as if the deck had
suddenly dropped down; and as Don and Jem rolled over into the lee
scuppers, they were pretty well doused by the water that came splashing
over the bows, and when, amidst a shout of laughter from the sailors,
the order was given for them to get up and form in line again, Jem clung
tightly to Don, and said, dolefully,--
"It's of no use, Mas' Don; I can't. It's like trying to stand on
running barrels; and--oh, dear me!--I do feel so precious bad."
Don made no reply, but caught at the side of the vessel, for everything
around seemed to be swimming, and a peculiarly faint sensation had
attacked him, such as he had never experienced before.
"There, send 'em all below," said the officer, who seemed half angry,
half-amused. "Pretty way this is, of manning His Majesty's ships.
There, down with you. Get 'em all below."
Don did not know how he got below. He had some recollection of knocking
the skin off his elbows, and being half dragged into a corner of the
lower deck, where, for three days, he lay in the most abjectly miserable
state, listening to the sighs and groans of his equally unfortunate
companions, and the remarks of Jem, who kept up in his waking moments a
running commentary on the miseries of going to sea.
"It's wuss than anything I ever felt or saw," he muttered. "I've been
ill, and I've been in hospital, but this here's about the most terrible.
I say, Mas' Don, how do you feel now?"
"As if I'd give anything to have the ship stopped, for us to be set
ashore."
"No, no, you can't feel like that, Mas' Don, because that's exactly how
I feel. I am so ill. Well, all I can say is that it serves the captain
and the lieutenant and all the rest of 'em jolly well right for
press-ganging me."
"What do you mean?" said Don, dolefully.
"Why, that they took all that trouble to bring me aboard to make a
sailor of me, and they'll never do it. I'm fit to go into a hospital,
and that's about all I'm fit for. Sailor? Why, I can't even stand
upright on the precious deck."
"Well, my lads," said a hearty voice just then; "how long are you going
to play at being old women? Come, rouse a bit."
"No, thankye, sir," said Jem, in a miserable tone. "Bit? I haven't bit
anything since I've been aboard."
"Then rouse up, and bite something now," cried the boatswain. "Come, my
lad," he continued, turning to Don, "you've got too much stuff in you to
lie about like this. Jump up, and come on deck in the fresh air."
"I feel so weak, sir; I don't think I could stand."
"Oh, yes, you can," said the boatswain. "That's better. If you give
way to it, you'll be here for a week."
"Are we nearly there, sir?" said Jem, with a groan.
"Nearly there? You yellow-faced lubber. What do you mean?"
"Where we're going to," groaned Jem.
"Nearly there? No. Why?"
"Because I want to go ashore again. I'm no use here."
"We'll soon make you of some use. There, get up."
"But aren't we soon going ashore?"
"If you behave yourself you may get a run ashore at the Cape or at
Singapore; but most likely you won't leave the ship till we get to
China."
"China?" said Jem, sitting up sharply. "China?"
"Yes, China. What of that?"
"China!" cried Jem. "Why, I thought we were sailing round to Plymouth
or Portsmouth, or some place like that. China?"
"We're going straight away or China, my lad, to be on that station for
some time."
"And when are we coming back, sir?"
"In about three years."
"Mas' Don," said Jem, dolefully; "let's get up on deck, sir, and jump
overboard, so as to make an end of it."
"You'd better not," said the boatswain, laughing at Jem's miserable
face. "You're in the king's service now, and you've got to work.
There, rouse up, and act like a man."
"But can't we send a letter home, sir?" asked Don.
"Oh, yes, if you like, at the first port we touch at, or by any ship we
speak. But come, my lad, you've been sea-sick for days; don't begin to
be home sick. You've been pressed as many a better fellow has been
before you. The king wants men, and he must have them. Now, young as
you are, show that you can act like a man."
Don gave him an agonised look, but the bluff boatswain did not see it.
"Here, you fellows," he cried to the rest of the sick men; "we've given
you time enough now. You must get up and shake all this off. You'll
all be on deck in a quarter of an hour, so look sharp."
"This here's a nice game, Mas' Don. Do you know how I feel?"
"No, Jem; but I know how I feel."
"How's that, sir?"
"That if I had been asked to serve the king I might have joined a ship;
but I've been dragged here in a cruel way, and the very first time I can
get ashore, I mean to stay."
"Well, I felt something like that, Mas' Don; but they'd call it
desertion."
"Let them call it what they like, Jem. They treated us like dogs, and I
will not stand it. I shall leave the ship first chance. You can do as
you like, but that's what I mean to do."
"Oh, I shall do as you do, Mas' Don. I was never meant for a sailor,
and I shall get away as soon as I can."
"Shall you?" said a voice that seemed familiar; and they both turned in
the direction from which it came, to see a dark figure rise from beside
the bulk head, where it had lain unnoticed by the invalids, though if
they had noted its presence, they would have taken it for one of their
fellow-sufferers.
"What's it got to do with you?" said Jem, shortly, as he scowled at the
man, who now came forward sufficiently near the dim light for them to
recognise the grim, sinister-looking sailor, who had played so
unpleasant a part at the _rendez-vous_ where they were taken after being
seized.
"What's it got to do with me? Everything. So you're goin' to desert,
both of you, are you? Do you know what that means?"
"No; nor don't want," growled Jem.
"Then I'll tell you. Flogging, for sartain, and p'r'aps stringing up at
the yard-arm, as an example to others."
"Ho!" said Jem; "do it? Well, you look the sort o' man as is best
suited for that; and just you look here. Nex' time I ketches you spying
and listening to what I say, I shall give you a worse dressing down than
I give you last time, so be off."
"Mutinous, threatening, and talking about deserting," said the
sinister-looking sailor, with a harsh laugh, which sounded as if he had
a young watchman's rattle somewhere in his chest. "Nice thing to
report. I think this will do."
He went off rubbing his hands softly, and mounted the ladder, Jem
watching him till his legs had disappeared, when he turned sharply to
Don.
"Him and me's going to have a regular set-to some day, Mas' Don. He
makes me feel warm, and somehow that bit of a row has done me no end o'
good. Here, come on deck, and let's see if he's telling tales. Come
on, lad. P'r'aps I've got a word or two to say as well."
Don had not realised it before, but as he followed Jem, he suddenly woke
to the fact that he did not feel so weak and giddy, while, by the time
he was on deck, it as suddenly occurred to him that he could eat some
breakfast.
"I thought as much," said Jem. "Lookye there, Mas' Don. Did you ever
see such a miserable sneak?"
For there, not half-a-dozen yards away, was the sinister-looking sailor
talking to the bluff boatswain.
"Oh, yes, of course," said the latter, as he caught sight of the
recruits. "So does every man who is pressed, and if he does not say it,
he thinks it. There, be off."
The ill-looking sailor gave Jem an ugly look and went aft, while the
boatswain turned to Don.
"That's right," he said. "Make a bit of an effort, and you're all the
better for it. You'll get your sea legs directly."
"I wish he'd tell us where to get a sea leg o' mutton, Mas' Don,"
whispered Jem. "I _am_ hungry."
"What's that?" said the boatswain.
"Only said I was hungry," growled Jem.
"Better and better. And, now, look here, you two may as well set to
work without grumbling. And take my advice; don't let such men as that
hear either of you talk about desertion again. It doesn't matter this
time, but, by-and-by, it may mean punishment."