"Here, Mark, old chap, the skipper wants you on the quarter-deck," said
Bob Howlett some weeks later.
"Wants me?" cried Mark, clapping his hand to his head.
"Yes."
"Why, I heard the men piped up, and everybody's there."
"Yes, all of 'em. Russell's there too, and Whitney."
"Whitney?"
"Yes, I think the skipper's going to have your bare head exhibited, and
the doctor's to give the men a lecture on the new growth of hair on the
human skull."
"Get out; he doesn't want me, Bob. I shall be obliged to give you that
licking."
"No gammon, really. You are to come at once."
"Is this serious?"
"Yes: honour."
"But--oh, Bob, I'm such a guy."
"You are, my boy; but we'll forgive you. Come on." Mark hurriedly
covered as much of his disfigurement as he could with his cap, and
followed his messmate on deck, where, to his horror, he found officers
and men all drawn up, with the shabby port and town of Goldby glorified
by the setting sun, and all beneath the quarter-deck awning bathed in a
golden glow.
One of the first objects upon which his eyes lit was the young
lieutenant, looking weak and pale, as he sat there in uniform for the
first time during many days. Tom Fillot and the rest of the prize crew
were in front, and as Mark shrinkingly marched up to where the captain
was waiting, Mr Russell gave him a friendly smile, and the first
lieutenant one of his frowning nods.
Mark felt miserable, for, as Bob kindly told him afterwards, he looked
just like an escaped lunatic, who had jumped out of a strait waistcoat
into a middy's uniform. He felt as if the men were smiling in derision
at his aspect, especially Tom Fillot and Dance, who were grinning, while
Soup and Taters displayed nearly every one of their magnificent white
teeth.
There was a singing in his ears too, and a sensation of giddiness; and
when Mr Whitney nodded and looked hard at him, the midshipman half
thought that Bob Howlett's words were right, and that the doctor was
really going to lecture upon his bald head.
Then the captain spoke, amidst the most profound silence, and Mark felt
as if he were a culprit, and as ready to hang his head; but somehow he
drew a deep breath and held himself up stiffly, and his eyes flashed
defiance, as he said to himself, "Let them laugh if they like. I did my
duty."
"Glad to see you on deck again, Mr Vandean," said the captain, shaking
hands, and speaking in his clear, penetrating tones. "I know that you
have felt a little shrinking naturally, sir, but no British sailor need
be ashamed of scars received in an honourable service."
"Thank you, sir," murmured Mark, in a choking voice, and his eyes looked
his gratitude.
"I sent for you, Mr Vandean, because I felt that you ought to hear an
announcement I have to make to the whole crew of her Majesty's sloop
_Nautilus_."
He paused for a moment or two, and whispered to Mr Staples, who was
close behind him. Then he nodded, and went on:
"The two schooners so gallantly taken, lost, and retaken by the brave
little prize crew I sent on board, have been condemned and sold. They
are beautiful little well-formed vessels, and have made a splendid
price.--Silence!"
There had been a low murmur, which was instantly checked.
"Then for head money on one hundred and eighty-seven poor black
fellow-creatures rescued from what to them were floating hells, there
will also be a handsome sum to add, and make a capital distribution of
prize-money amongst the smartest crew a captain in Her Majesty's service
could wish to command."
Here there was an attempt at a cheer, but the captain held up his hand.
"I have a few more words to say, and they are these. We all owe our
thanks to those officers and men who have turned what had so far been a
barren time into one rich in action. There is not a man among us who
would not gladly have done his duty as well; and no doubt--it shall not
be my fault if they do not--others will have plenty of opportunities for
distinguishing themselves. But I feel that we ought all to publicly
thank these officers and men for the brave fight they made on our
behalf. You will be glad to hear that I have strongly recommended my
gallant friend Mr Russell for promotion, which he has won by his brave
efforts and his sufferings in our great humane fight to wipe away the
sinister black bar from the world's shield of civilisation. Stop, my
lads; you shall cheer directly. Dance, Fillot, and Bannock stand next
for promotion, and I thank them publicly for setting so brave an example
with their messmates, of patient self-denial, obedience, and sterling
British manly pluck in a good cause."
Another murmur ran along the ranks, and Mark saw that Tom Fillot was
hanging his head and colouring like a schoolboy, while Dance could not
stand still. Almost at the same moment Mark caught Bob Howlett's eyes,
which twinkled with mischief and seemed to say, "Your turn now."
"One more word," said the captain, "and I have done."
He paused, and in the intense, painful silence the glowing quarter-deck,
with its many faces, seemed to swim round Mark Vandean.
"There is one whom I have not named," said the captain--"Mr Vandean."
Here, unchecked, there was a tremendous cheer, in which the officers
joined, and the captain smiled, while now Mark's head did hang a little,
and he trembled.
Then, as there was silence once more, the captain turned to him.
"Mr Vandean," he said, "I thank you--we all thank you for what you have
done. I name you, of course, in my despatch, but it is folly to talk to
you of promotion for years to come. That is certain, however, if you go
on in the course you have followed since you joined my ship. I tell
you, sir, that it is such lads as you who have made the words British
Boy admired--I may say honoured--wherever our country's name is known.
Mark Vandean, I am proud of you, and some day I feel that your country
will be as proud--proud as we all are--proud as the father and mother at
home will be when they know everything about their gallant son. God
bless you, my boy! A British captain should be like a father to the
lads whom he commands. Heaven knows I feel so toward you."
He stopped, with his hand on Mark's shoulder, and the first lieutenant
stepped forward, cap in hand, to wave it wildly.
"Now, my lads," he shouted, "for Lieutenant Russell and Mr Vandean:
cheer!"
They did.
"One more for our captain!"
The voices rang out again and again, and yet again. And made the water
ripple round the ship, Bob Howlett afterwards declared. But five
minutes after, when he was down with Mark in the middies' berth, while
the hero of the evening sat hot and quivering in every nerve, Bob
uttered a contemptuous snort.
"Oh!" he cried, "what a jolly shame!"
Mark stared.
"You do get all the crumb, old chap. All that fuss over a fellow with a
head of hair like yours!"
Then, as he saw the pained look in his messmate's countenance, the tears
rose in his eyes, and he gulped out,--
"Only my gammon, old chap. I'm as proud of you as any of 'em, and I
only wish now that we were two great gals."
"Why?" cried Mark, wonderingly, as he caught the hands extended to him
by his friend.
"Because then I could hug you. But I can't: it would be so Frenchy."
"Fists'll do," said Mark, gripping Bob's fingers with all his might.
"Yes, and we're to stick to each other always."
"Always."
"Through thick and thin."
"Through thick and thin."
"Chums to the end."
"To the very end, Bob."
"Yah!" roared the latter, angrily, as he picked up a bread tray to throw
at a head he had seen through his dim eyes watching them intently, "How
dare you sneak in, sir to watch what's going on? Why, I thought it was
one of the men. Come here and stand on your head, ugly. You can't tell
tales of how stupid and choky I've been."
The chimpanzee came forward out of the semi-darkness, and squatted down
to have its ears pulled; while, as soon as he grew more calm, and his
heart beat regularly once again, Mark sat down to pen a long, long
letter to that best of places--his far-off home.