"Mr Herrick," said the captain, as I saluted, "I have decided that, as
you know so much about this business, you shall go with Mr Brooke in
one of the boats; but I wish you to observe what I say: the success of
our expedition depends a great deal upon secrecy, so do not chatter
anything about your mission in the hearing of the men."
"No, sir, certainly not," I said, wondering what the mission might be,
and whether we were going to cut out the junks.
"That's right; you had better take the interpreter with you."
"To search for the junks, sir?"
"Hush; guard your tongue, sir. You are ostensibly going up the river
with Mr Brooke upon a little shooting expedition for wild-fowl, so get
rid of your uniform. I daresay we can lend him a gun, Mr Reardon?"
"If he'll take care of it, he can have mine, sir," said Mr Reardon.
"Then off with you, my lad, and be as observant as you can. Mr Brooke
will tell you, I daresay, all about his instructions."
I saluted, and darted away in time to see that Smith had been watching
me, for he drew back as I approached, and I found him standing by where
Barkins sat, looking exceedingly glum.
I daresay it was very petty, but Smith had been so malicious, and had so
often made himself disagreeable, that I could not help feeling a
delicious sensation of triumph as I bustled into the cabin and rushed to
my locker, without taking any notice whatever of Smith, while I felt
sorry for big burly Barkins, who I felt would not say an unkind word if
it were not for Smith's influence.
I remember Charles Dickens saying in one of his tales something about it
being hard enough to live with any one who had a bad temper in a large
house, but to be shut up with the said person in a cart or travelling
van was terrible. Of course I am not giving his exact words, only
making the allusion to illustrate the fact that it is quite as bad to
exist with an ill-tempered person in the small cabin of a vessel at sea.
For you may depend upon it there is no better--or worse--way of finding
out a companion's peculiarities than that.
I acted pettily, but then I was only a boy; and now I am a man, getting
on in years, I don't know that I am much better. But it was very comic
all the same to see those two fellows try to ignore my proceedings, poor
old Barkins following Blacksmith's lead once more. They did not want to
know what I was going to do--not a bit. And I laughed to myself as I
hurriedly kicked off my shoes and put on a pair of strong boots,
carefully took off my uniform jacket and replaced it by a thin tweed
Norfolk, after which I extricated a pith helmet from its box, having to
turn it upside down, for it was full of odds and ends.
Smith had taken up a book and pretended to read, while Barkins sat back
on a locker with his hands in his pockets, and his lips thrust out and
screwed as if he were whistling, but no sound came, and he stared hard
at the bulkhead facing him.
But try how he would he could not keep his eyes fixed there--they would
follow my movements; and twice over I caught Smith peeping round the
side of the book with which he was screening his face.
I began to whistle as I rapidly made my preparations, and at last Smith
could bear it no longer.
"What's the idiot dressing himself up for?" he cried contemptuously.