Chapter Six.The next morning broke bright and glorious. We were right away in the open sea now, going south before a brisk north-west breeze, which was just enough to make the water dance and glitter in the sunshine, as the Burgh Castle with a full press of sail careened gently over. While feeling fresh and eager, I thought how delightful the ocean looked, and was eager to see what the tropic waters would have to show.“Here, Dale,” said the captain, “this sort of thing won’t do. Where’s your messmate—Walters?”“He’s a little better this morning, sir, but not out of his bunk.”“You go down and tell him that if he is not up on deck in a quarter of an hour, I’ll send two of the men down to fetch him.”“Yes, sir,” and I went and delivered my message to the poor, miserable-looking, yellow-faced fellow, as he lay with his face screwed up, only half seen in his bunk.“I don’t care. Let him send if he dares. I can’t get up. I’ll complain to the owners. It’s a cruel shame, and it’s a wonder I haven’t died, left neglected down here.”“That you haven’t been,” I cried; “why, I’ve regularly nursed you, and the steward couldn’t have been kinder.”“Who said he could?” cried Walters, with plenty of animation now. “But where’s the doctor? What’s a doctor carried on a ship for if he isn’t to attend to the sick people?”“Oh, but you’re not sick,” I said.“What?” he cried fiercely.“Well, not now,” I replied, laughing. “Of course you were, but you’re only qualmy now. Here, this place does smell stuffy. I’ll open the window.”“That you won’t; I don’t want to catch a bad cold. Wish I hadn’t come to sea in such a miserable ship.”“Nonsense. Get up and dress.”“Shan’t!”“But you’d feel ever so much better.”“How do you know? You go and tell the captain he’s a brute, and I’m not going to get up till I’m better.”“Not I. It would only be a lie,” I said.“What?”“You are ever so much better. Shall I ask the steward to make you some tea?”“No, I couldn’t touch it, and he wouldn’t make it if you did. This ain’t a London hotel.”“Of course it isn’t; but he’d make a cup if I asked him.”“No, he wouldn’t. They’re all brutes here.”“Look here,” I cried, as I saw how argumentative he could be, and that if he roused himself up he’d be better, “if you don’t jump into your trousers I’ll be a brute too.”“What do you mean?” he said, sharply.“I’ll lay hold of one leg, and pull you out on to the floor.”“You dare to touch me, and I’ll give you the biggest hiding you ever had in your life.”“Not you. Come, get up, or the skipper will send down two fellows to fetch you out.”“Let him at his peril,” snarled my messmate, pulling the clothes higher.“Shall I go and tell him that?”“If you dare.”“Oh, I dare,” I said, “but I wouldn’t be such a sneak. But he really will send after you, if you don’t get up.”“Let him.”“Come, you are better.”“I’m not; I’m half dead.”“You’re not.”“I am, you unfeeling brute; I am so weak, I can’t stir.”“You said you were strong enough to give me a good hiding.”“Yes, when I’m better.”“You’re better now, so get out.”“Shan’t.”“Am I to pull you out?”“You dare to touch me, and I’ll half-kill you.”“Here goes, then!” I cried, and diving my hand under the blanket, I caught hold of him by his leg, and with one good tug had him out on the floor of the narrow cabin, kicking and struggling to get from beneath the clothes. As soon as he was free he flew at me, hitting out fiercely, while I only closed with him to keep him from hurting.Then for about a minute we had a combined wrestle and fight about the cabin, with the result that I, being dressed and in better condition, got him down and sat upon his chest, panting heavily, to get my breath, while I could feel the saddle upon which I sat move sharply up and down.“There,” I said good-temperedly, “I knew you weren’t bad. Will you dress yourself, and come on deck if I get off?”“I’ll half-kill you!” he snarled through his set teeth.“Then I’ll sit here till you change your mind.”He drew up his knees, so as to get his heels as near me as he could, then placed his hands close to his ribs, waited a few moments to get his breath, and at a moment when he thought I was quite off my guard, he raised his chest so as to make a bow of his spine, and giving a sudden quick heave, tried to throw me off sidewise.But I had too good a seat for my restive steed, and nipping him tightly, held on while he frantically tried the same movement again and again, till he was compelled to stop from lack of breath. And all the time his face grew blacker with fury, while mine was puckered up by mirth, for I was thoroughly enjoying the fun of the thing, and not in the least alarmed by his threats.“You beast!” he snarled. “Only wait till my turn comes, and you shall have it for this.”“Not I, my lad,” I cried merrily. “You’ll be as pleased as can be to-morrow, and thank me for doing you so much good. Why, Walters, old chap, you’re growing stronger every minute. I thought you were so faint you couldn’t move.”“So I am, and you’re suffocating me by sitting on my chest, you cowardly wretch.”“Not I. It makes the bellows work better,” I cried, as I bumped gently up and down. “Good for you after lying there so long. Ready for another try?”I gave so heavy a bump that he yelled out, but I only laughed, for every doubt of his condition had passed away, as he proved to me in our struggle that he was as strong and well able to be about as I.“Now then, if I get off, will you wash and dress?”“I’ll thrash you till you can’t stand,” he snarled.“Not you. Be too grateful; and if you speak like that again I’ll nip your ribs twice as hard.”“You wait till I get up.”“You’re not going to get up,” I said, “till you promise to behave yourself.”“I’ll make you sorry for this, my fine fellow, as soon as I’m well.”“Then you had better do it at once,” I said, “if you can.”He gave another heave, but I was too firmly settled, and he subsided again, and lay panting and glaring at me fiercely.“There, let’s have no more nonsense,” I said at last; “don’t be so silly. I only did it all in fun to get you to make an effort. Will you get up quietly and shake hands?”“No!” he roared, and he gave such a jerk that I had hard work to keep my seat, while he struck at me savagely with his doubled fists.“Wo ho!” I cried, as I managed to secure his wrists, and now as I saw his malignant look, I began to feel uncomfortable, and to wish that I had gone some other way to work to bring him round.“You shall repent all this, you wretch!” he cried.“Pooh!” I said contemptuously, for my own temper was rising; “I am not afraid. There, get up and dress at once, and don’t make an idiot of yourself.”As I spoke I gathered myself together, and with one effort I sprang to my feet, being quite on my guard, but expecting the greater part of what he had said was talk, and that he would not dress himself. But to my astonishment he leaped up, dashed at me, striking out right and left, and the next minute there would have been an angry fight on the way, if the door had not suddenly darkened and a voice which I recognised as Mr Brymer’s exclaimed—“Hullo! what’s all this?”My rising anger was checked on the instant as Walters started back, and the chief mate and Mr Frewen came in.“Walters has got a fit, sir,” I said, laughing.“I haven’t,” he cried furiously; “this cowardly beast has been dragging me out of my bunk when I was so ill I could hardly move myself.”“The captain said he was to get up, sir,” I pleaded; “and I tried to coax him first, but he wouldn’t stir. Then I did pull him out, but he’s been going on like mad ever since.”“Let me see,” said Mr Frewen, seriously, and he felt Walters’ pulse. “Let me look at your tongue, sir,” he continued; “no, no, not the tip. Out with it. Hah! And so you had the heart to drag this poor fellow out of his bed, Dale, when he was as weak as a baby?”“Why, I could hardly hold him, sir,” I protested. “He’s stronger than I am, only I got him down and sat upon him.”“Sat upon him—got him down! Why, you might have killed him.”“I didn’t think he was bad, sir,” I said. “You should have seen him a little while ago.”“Oh!” groaned Walters, piteously, and he lowered the lids of his eyes, and then let them wander feebly about the cabin.“He’s looking for his breeches,” said the doctor, changing his tone. “There, dress yourself, you cowardly sham!” he cried. “A great strong healthy lad like you, who has been to sea for eighteen months, to lay up like a sickly weak girl. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”Walters opened his eyes widely and stared.“Dale ought to have tugged you out a couple of days ago, and given you a bucket of water. There, nothing whatever’s the matter with him, Brymer. Come along, and I’ll report the case to the captain.”“Well, to see the way he was showing fight,” said the mate, “didn’t seem to me like being weak.”“Weak? Pish! You did quite right, Dale. I’m sympathetic enough with any poor fellow who is really bad, but if there is anything that raises my dander it’s a cowardly pitiful fellow who gives up for nothing. Look here, sir, if you’re not on deck in a quarter of an hour, I shall suggest strong measures to the captain in answer to his order to come down and see how you were.”He stepped out of the little cabin, but put his head in again.“Open that window, Dale, my lad, this place is stifling.”“Yes,” said the first mate. “On deck in a quarter of an hour, sir, or you’ll wish yourself on shore.”They both left the cabin, and I only made poor Walters more bitter against me by bursting out laughing as he began to dress quickly.“A set of brutes!” he grumbled; “a set of unfeeling brutes!”“There, drop it now,” I cried; “I shall stop and help you.”“You’ll stop till I help you,” he said through his clenched teeth. “I shan’t forget this.”“All right,” I replied, and I left him to himself to cool down; but feeling sorry for him, and thinking that I had been unfeeling, I hurried off to the cook, who was pretending to be very busy in the galley, and who gave me a suspicious look as soon as I showed myself at the door.“I say, have you got any beef-tea?” I asked.“Beef-tea, sir!” he said, giving the lad with him a sharp look. “Anything else, sir?—Turtle, sir; gravy, spring, or asparagus soup,—like it now?”I stared for a moment, then seeing that the man was poking fun at me, I changed my tone and slipped a shilling in his hand.“Look here,” I cried; “Mr Walters has been very queer and he’s now getting up, can’t you give me a basin of soup for him?”“Soup, sir! Ah, now you’re talking wisdom. I’ll see what I can do; but to talk about beef-tea just when the butcher’s shop round the corner’s shut up—butcher’s shop is shut up, arn’t it, Tom?” he continued, turning to his assistant.“Yes; all gone wrong. Trade was so bad.”“Now, no chaff,” I said; “you will get me a basin of something?”“I should think so, sir. Here, Tom, strain off some of the liquor from that Irish stoo.”A lid was lifted off, and a pleasant savoury steam arose as a basinful of good soup was ladled out, strained into another, and then the man turned to me—“Like to try one yourself, sir?”“Yes,” I cried eagerly, for the odour was tempting. “No,” I said, resisting the temptation. “Give us hold,” and the next minute I was on my way back with the basin and a spoon toward the cabin aft.I don’t know how it is, but so sure as you don’t want to be seen doing anything, everyone is on the way to meet you. It was so then. I was carefully balancing the steaming basin so as not to spill any of its contents on the white deck, as the ship rose and fell, when I came upon the doctor, who laughed. The next minute Mr Brymer popped upon me.“Hullo!” he said, “who’s that for?”“Mr Walters, sir.”“Humph!”I went on watching the surface of the soup, which kept on threatening to slop over, when a rough voice said—“Thankye, sir. I’ll have it here. Did you put in the salt?”I gave the speaker, Bob Hampton, a sharp look, and saw that the two men who were generally near him, Barney Blane and Dumlow, were showing all their teeth as they indulged in hard grins; and then I was close upon the cabin-door, but started and stopped short as I heard a cough, and looking up, there was the captain leaning over the rail and watching me.“That’s not your duty, is it, my lad?” he said.“No, sir. For Walters, sir, before he comes on deck.”“Oh!” he ejaculated with a grim look, and he turned away, while I dived in through the door and made my way to the cabin, where I could hear that Walters was having a good wash.“Here, I’ve brought you something to take,” I cried.He glanced round sharply, saw what I had, and took no more notice, but went on with his washing.“Better have it while it’s hot,” I said.He took up the towel and began to rub.“Look sharp, you must take it,” I cried. “If I stand it down, it will slop over the side.”“Oh, well, if you won’t,” I cried at last, “I shall eat it myself.”He threw down the towel, turned, half-snatched the basin away, and held it as if he were going to throw the contents in my face.His action was so sudden that I flinched.“Ah, you know you deserve it,” he cried, sourly.“Yes, shall I eat it?” I replied, recovering myself.“Bah!” he snarled out, and feeling that I had done all that was necessary, I backed away and went up on deck, from whence I saw my messmate come out of the cabin about ten minutes after, and as the captain signed to him to come near, I slipped down out of curiosity, hurried to the cabin, and found that the basin was emptied to the last drop.I ran forward and popped my head in at the galley.“Send a boy to fetch the empty basin from our cabin,” I said quickly.“All right, sir,” was the reply, and I went aft, just as Walters was leaving the cabin, but he took care not to come near me, and I went on with my work.
The next morning broke bright and glorious. We were right away in the open sea now, going south before a brisk north-west breeze, which was just enough to make the water dance and glitter in the sunshine, as the Burgh Castle with a full press of sail careened gently over. While feeling fresh and eager, I thought how delightful the ocean looked, and was eager to see what the tropic waters would have to show.
“Here, Dale,” said the captain, “this sort of thing won’t do. Where’s your messmate—Walters?”
“He’s a little better this morning, sir, but not out of his bunk.”
“You go down and tell him that if he is not up on deck in a quarter of an hour, I’ll send two of the men down to fetch him.”
“Yes, sir,” and I went and delivered my message to the poor, miserable-looking, yellow-faced fellow, as he lay with his face screwed up, only half seen in his bunk.
“I don’t care. Let him send if he dares. I can’t get up. I’ll complain to the owners. It’s a cruel shame, and it’s a wonder I haven’t died, left neglected down here.”
“That you haven’t been,” I cried; “why, I’ve regularly nursed you, and the steward couldn’t have been kinder.”
“Who said he could?” cried Walters, with plenty of animation now. “But where’s the doctor? What’s a doctor carried on a ship for if he isn’t to attend to the sick people?”
“Oh, but you’re not sick,” I said.
“What?” he cried fiercely.
“Well, not now,” I replied, laughing. “Of course you were, but you’re only qualmy now. Here, this place does smell stuffy. I’ll open the window.”
“That you won’t; I don’t want to catch a bad cold. Wish I hadn’t come to sea in such a miserable ship.”
“Nonsense. Get up and dress.”
“Shan’t!”
“But you’d feel ever so much better.”
“How do you know? You go and tell the captain he’s a brute, and I’m not going to get up till I’m better.”
“Not I. It would only be a lie,” I said.
“What?”
“You are ever so much better. Shall I ask the steward to make you some tea?”
“No, I couldn’t touch it, and he wouldn’t make it if you did. This ain’t a London hotel.”
“Of course it isn’t; but he’d make a cup if I asked him.”
“No, he wouldn’t. They’re all brutes here.”
“Look here,” I cried, as I saw how argumentative he could be, and that if he roused himself up he’d be better, “if you don’t jump into your trousers I’ll be a brute too.”
“What do you mean?” he said, sharply.
“I’ll lay hold of one leg, and pull you out on to the floor.”
“You dare to touch me, and I’ll give you the biggest hiding you ever had in your life.”
“Not you. Come, get up, or the skipper will send down two fellows to fetch you out.”
“Let him at his peril,” snarled my messmate, pulling the clothes higher.
“Shall I go and tell him that?”
“If you dare.”
“Oh, I dare,” I said, “but I wouldn’t be such a sneak. But he really will send after you, if you don’t get up.”
“Let him.”
“Come, you are better.”
“I’m not; I’m half dead.”
“You’re not.”
“I am, you unfeeling brute; I am so weak, I can’t stir.”
“You said you were strong enough to give me a good hiding.”
“Yes, when I’m better.”
“You’re better now, so get out.”
“Shan’t.”
“Am I to pull you out?”
“You dare to touch me, and I’ll half-kill you.”
“Here goes, then!” I cried, and diving my hand under the blanket, I caught hold of him by his leg, and with one good tug had him out on the floor of the narrow cabin, kicking and struggling to get from beneath the clothes. As soon as he was free he flew at me, hitting out fiercely, while I only closed with him to keep him from hurting.
Then for about a minute we had a combined wrestle and fight about the cabin, with the result that I, being dressed and in better condition, got him down and sat upon his chest, panting heavily, to get my breath, while I could feel the saddle upon which I sat move sharply up and down.
“There,” I said good-temperedly, “I knew you weren’t bad. Will you dress yourself, and come on deck if I get off?”
“I’ll half-kill you!” he snarled through his set teeth.
“Then I’ll sit here till you change your mind.”
He drew up his knees, so as to get his heels as near me as he could, then placed his hands close to his ribs, waited a few moments to get his breath, and at a moment when he thought I was quite off my guard, he raised his chest so as to make a bow of his spine, and giving a sudden quick heave, tried to throw me off sidewise.
But I had too good a seat for my restive steed, and nipping him tightly, held on while he frantically tried the same movement again and again, till he was compelled to stop from lack of breath. And all the time his face grew blacker with fury, while mine was puckered up by mirth, for I was thoroughly enjoying the fun of the thing, and not in the least alarmed by his threats.
“You beast!” he snarled. “Only wait till my turn comes, and you shall have it for this.”
“Not I, my lad,” I cried merrily. “You’ll be as pleased as can be to-morrow, and thank me for doing you so much good. Why, Walters, old chap, you’re growing stronger every minute. I thought you were so faint you couldn’t move.”
“So I am, and you’re suffocating me by sitting on my chest, you cowardly wretch.”
“Not I. It makes the bellows work better,” I cried, as I bumped gently up and down. “Good for you after lying there so long. Ready for another try?”
I gave so heavy a bump that he yelled out, but I only laughed, for every doubt of his condition had passed away, as he proved to me in our struggle that he was as strong and well able to be about as I.
“Now then, if I get off, will you wash and dress?”
“I’ll thrash you till you can’t stand,” he snarled.
“Not you. Be too grateful; and if you speak like that again I’ll nip your ribs twice as hard.”
“You wait till I get up.”
“You’re not going to get up,” I said, “till you promise to behave yourself.”
“I’ll make you sorry for this, my fine fellow, as soon as I’m well.”
“Then you had better do it at once,” I said, “if you can.”
He gave another heave, but I was too firmly settled, and he subsided again, and lay panting and glaring at me fiercely.
“There, let’s have no more nonsense,” I said at last; “don’t be so silly. I only did it all in fun to get you to make an effort. Will you get up quietly and shake hands?”
“No!” he roared, and he gave such a jerk that I had hard work to keep my seat, while he struck at me savagely with his doubled fists.
“Wo ho!” I cried, as I managed to secure his wrists, and now as I saw his malignant look, I began to feel uncomfortable, and to wish that I had gone some other way to work to bring him round.
“You shall repent all this, you wretch!” he cried.
“Pooh!” I said contemptuously, for my own temper was rising; “I am not afraid. There, get up and dress at once, and don’t make an idiot of yourself.”
As I spoke I gathered myself together, and with one effort I sprang to my feet, being quite on my guard, but expecting the greater part of what he had said was talk, and that he would not dress himself. But to my astonishment he leaped up, dashed at me, striking out right and left, and the next minute there would have been an angry fight on the way, if the door had not suddenly darkened and a voice which I recognised as Mr Brymer’s exclaimed—
“Hullo! what’s all this?”
My rising anger was checked on the instant as Walters started back, and the chief mate and Mr Frewen came in.
“Walters has got a fit, sir,” I said, laughing.
“I haven’t,” he cried furiously; “this cowardly beast has been dragging me out of my bunk when I was so ill I could hardly move myself.”
“The captain said he was to get up, sir,” I pleaded; “and I tried to coax him first, but he wouldn’t stir. Then I did pull him out, but he’s been going on like mad ever since.”
“Let me see,” said Mr Frewen, seriously, and he felt Walters’ pulse. “Let me look at your tongue, sir,” he continued; “no, no, not the tip. Out with it. Hah! And so you had the heart to drag this poor fellow out of his bed, Dale, when he was as weak as a baby?”
“Why, I could hardly hold him, sir,” I protested. “He’s stronger than I am, only I got him down and sat upon him.”
“Sat upon him—got him down! Why, you might have killed him.”
“I didn’t think he was bad, sir,” I said. “You should have seen him a little while ago.”
“Oh!” groaned Walters, piteously, and he lowered the lids of his eyes, and then let them wander feebly about the cabin.
“He’s looking for his breeches,” said the doctor, changing his tone. “There, dress yourself, you cowardly sham!” he cried. “A great strong healthy lad like you, who has been to sea for eighteen months, to lay up like a sickly weak girl. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
Walters opened his eyes widely and stared.
“Dale ought to have tugged you out a couple of days ago, and given you a bucket of water. There, nothing whatever’s the matter with him, Brymer. Come along, and I’ll report the case to the captain.”
“Well, to see the way he was showing fight,” said the mate, “didn’t seem to me like being weak.”
“Weak? Pish! You did quite right, Dale. I’m sympathetic enough with any poor fellow who is really bad, but if there is anything that raises my dander it’s a cowardly pitiful fellow who gives up for nothing. Look here, sir, if you’re not on deck in a quarter of an hour, I shall suggest strong measures to the captain in answer to his order to come down and see how you were.”
He stepped out of the little cabin, but put his head in again.
“Open that window, Dale, my lad, this place is stifling.”
“Yes,” said the first mate. “On deck in a quarter of an hour, sir, or you’ll wish yourself on shore.”
They both left the cabin, and I only made poor Walters more bitter against me by bursting out laughing as he began to dress quickly.
“A set of brutes!” he grumbled; “a set of unfeeling brutes!”
“There, drop it now,” I cried; “I shall stop and help you.”
“You’ll stop till I help you,” he said through his clenched teeth. “I shan’t forget this.”
“All right,” I replied, and I left him to himself to cool down; but feeling sorry for him, and thinking that I had been unfeeling, I hurried off to the cook, who was pretending to be very busy in the galley, and who gave me a suspicious look as soon as I showed myself at the door.
“I say, have you got any beef-tea?” I asked.
“Beef-tea, sir!” he said, giving the lad with him a sharp look. “Anything else, sir?—Turtle, sir; gravy, spring, or asparagus soup,—like it now?”
I stared for a moment, then seeing that the man was poking fun at me, I changed my tone and slipped a shilling in his hand.
“Look here,” I cried; “Mr Walters has been very queer and he’s now getting up, can’t you give me a basin of soup for him?”
“Soup, sir! Ah, now you’re talking wisdom. I’ll see what I can do; but to talk about beef-tea just when the butcher’s shop round the corner’s shut up—butcher’s shop is shut up, arn’t it, Tom?” he continued, turning to his assistant.
“Yes; all gone wrong. Trade was so bad.”
“Now, no chaff,” I said; “you will get me a basin of something?”
“I should think so, sir. Here, Tom, strain off some of the liquor from that Irish stoo.”
A lid was lifted off, and a pleasant savoury steam arose as a basinful of good soup was ladled out, strained into another, and then the man turned to me—
“Like to try one yourself, sir?”
“Yes,” I cried eagerly, for the odour was tempting. “No,” I said, resisting the temptation. “Give us hold,” and the next minute I was on my way back with the basin and a spoon toward the cabin aft.
I don’t know how it is, but so sure as you don’t want to be seen doing anything, everyone is on the way to meet you. It was so then. I was carefully balancing the steaming basin so as not to spill any of its contents on the white deck, as the ship rose and fell, when I came upon the doctor, who laughed. The next minute Mr Brymer popped upon me.
“Hullo!” he said, “who’s that for?”
“Mr Walters, sir.”
“Humph!”
I went on watching the surface of the soup, which kept on threatening to slop over, when a rough voice said—
“Thankye, sir. I’ll have it here. Did you put in the salt?”
I gave the speaker, Bob Hampton, a sharp look, and saw that the two men who were generally near him, Barney Blane and Dumlow, were showing all their teeth as they indulged in hard grins; and then I was close upon the cabin-door, but started and stopped short as I heard a cough, and looking up, there was the captain leaning over the rail and watching me.
“That’s not your duty, is it, my lad?” he said.
“No, sir. For Walters, sir, before he comes on deck.”
“Oh!” he ejaculated with a grim look, and he turned away, while I dived in through the door and made my way to the cabin, where I could hear that Walters was having a good wash.
“Here, I’ve brought you something to take,” I cried.
He glanced round sharply, saw what I had, and took no more notice, but went on with his washing.
“Better have it while it’s hot,” I said.
He took up the towel and began to rub.
“Look sharp, you must take it,” I cried. “If I stand it down, it will slop over the side.”
“Oh, well, if you won’t,” I cried at last, “I shall eat it myself.”
He threw down the towel, turned, half-snatched the basin away, and held it as if he were going to throw the contents in my face.
His action was so sudden that I flinched.
“Ah, you know you deserve it,” he cried, sourly.
“Yes, shall I eat it?” I replied, recovering myself.
“Bah!” he snarled out, and feeling that I had done all that was necessary, I backed away and went up on deck, from whence I saw my messmate come out of the cabin about ten minutes after, and as the captain signed to him to come near, I slipped down out of curiosity, hurried to the cabin, and found that the basin was emptied to the last drop.
I ran forward and popped my head in at the galley.
“Send a boy to fetch the empty basin from our cabin,” I said quickly.
“All right, sir,” was the reply, and I went aft, just as Walters was leaving the cabin, but he took care not to come near me, and I went on with my work.
Chapter Seven.Down south we sailed as swiftly as favouring gales and plenty of sail could take us, and in course of time we had passed below the Azores, and every one on board was waking up to the fact that we were getting into latitudes where the weather grew hotter and more sunshiny day by day.All the foul winds and rough seas had been left far behind in the north, and anything more delightful than the life on board it would have been impossible to conceive.There were troubles, of course, and I used to think that the captain was unnecessarily severe on Jarette and several of the other men; but I set it down to a desire to preserve good discipline, and of course I felt that he must know best how to manage his crew.The passengers passed the greater part of their time on deck, coming up early to bathe in the bright sunshine which made the metal look too hot to touch, and the tar to glisten in little beads all along beneath the ropes and about the seams of the deck, and they stayed late at night in the brilliant moonlight, till I used to think that our voyage was going to be one long time of pleasure; for every one—no, not every one—seemed to be happy and cheerful, and I made no end of friends. I had plenty to do, but even in their strictest moments the officers were pleasant to me, and I thought, thanks to the breaking in I had had with my father on his yacht, going to sea in a big clipper ship one of the most delightful of lives.But there was some bitter in it. Walters and I never grew to be warm friends, though I did my best. He did not get on with the officers either, but used to seize every opportunity to get away and talk to some of the sailors, particularly with the Frenchman Jarette, who was in trouble with the captain just after our starting, but who, thanks to the severe treatment he had received, now proved to be one of the smartest of the crew.He spoke English as well as I did, but if ever I drew near when Walters had gone to lean over the bulwarks and talk to him, I could hear that it was in French—bad French, spoken very slowly on Walters’ part, and he used to have to make Jarette say what he had to say two or three times over before he could quite make it out.“No business of mine,” I thought. “I might do the same and practise up my French,” which needed it badly enough, for I had pretty well forgotten all I had learned.Things were not quite happy either on deck. I did not thoroughly understand why, and attributed it to Mr Denning’s ill-temper, consequent upon his being unwell, for he was haughty and distant with Mr Frewen whenever he tried to be friendly, and I used to set it down to his having had so much to do with doctors that he quite hated them; but there seemed to be no reason why he should snub Mr Preddle so whenever the big stout fellow approached him and his sister and tried to enter into conversation.Mr Preddle used to complain to me about it when I went with him to see to the aerating and giving fresh water to the fish, which needed a great deal of attention, and in spite of all our care would insist in turning wrong side up, to paddle about slowly and helplessly for a while, and then make a vigorous effort and swim naturally.But the next minute they were back down and white up, and so they would go on till they were too weak to move, and a few minutes after they would die.“Yes, it’s sad business, Alison Dale,” Mr Preddle would say with a sigh, as he lifted a little trout out of one tray, or a tiny salmon from another. “I’m afraid that I shall not have many left by the time I arrive over in New Zealand.”“Perhaps they will get on better when we are in warmer parts.”“I’m afraid they’ll die faster then,” he said, taking something out of a locked-up box under one of the water-troughs, and to my surprise I saw that it was an ordinary pair of kitchen bellows.“What! are you going to light a fire to warm them, sir?” I said.He smiled.“No, no; don’t you know that fish require plenty of air?”“Yes, I’ve heard something of the kind, and that if a pond is frozen over, and the ice is not broken, the fish die.”“Exactly, for want of air. Look at those fish in that trough.”“Yes, they’re hungry,” I said, for in one corner a number of them were putting their mouths nearly out of the water, and opening and shutting them.“No, they want air; there is not enough in the water. Now you’ll see.”He thrust the nozzle of the bellows beneath the surface, and began puffing away till the water boiled and bubbled and was covered with foam, while after the first few puffs the fish swam about more vigorously and left the surface.“There, you see,” he said, “there is plenty of air now,” and he served the other troughs the same. “Now, look here, Alison Dale,” he said, as he replaced the bellows, and locked the box, “I’ll leave the key behind this trough, and if you would not mind, I should be greatly obliged if you would give the fish a little air now and then just to help me, for I should dearly like to keep the poor things alive.”“Oh yes,” I said, “I’ll do it whenever I have a chance, but I don’t quite understand; I thought fish breathed water.”“With air in it. If there is no air to mingle with the water, the fish soon die.”“But air over the water, you mean,” I said.“No; in the water; it will hold an enormous deal of air or gas. Look at soda-water, for instance, how full of gas that is, and how the tiny beads come bubbling out as soon as the pressure is removed. Now, if I only had a few fish in these troughs, there would be plenty of air for them naturally in the water, but with so many in my charge,” he sighed, “it must be supplied artificially.”“All right, then, we’ll supply it artificially; but it looks very comic to be blowing the water with bellows instead of the fire, and if Walters catches me at it, he’ll tell everybody that I’ve gone mad.”“Then you will help me?” he said, appealingly.“Oh yes, I’ll help you,” I replied, and he looked so big and boyish that I felt as if I ought to slap him over the back and call him “old chap.”“Thank you, thank you,” he said in his mild way; “and—er—er—”Then he stopped, with his mouth opening and shutting; and as I stared at him, I could not help thinking how like he was to one of his fish.“Yes,” I said; “you were going to say something.”“Eh? Was I?” he said, looking quite red in the face, and uneasy. “Oh, it was nothing—nothing—I—er—I hardly know what I was about to say. Yes, I do,” he cried, desperately; “I remember now. You were close to us this morning when Mr Denning spoke to me. Did you hear what he said?”“No, I was too far off,” I replied; “but he seemed to be speaking snappishly.”“Yes, he does sometimes; I’m afraid that he does not like me.”“You worry him,” I thought to myself, “by hanging about him so, and talking to Miss Denning when he wants her to read to him.”“Yes?” said Mr Preddle; “what were you thinking?”“Oh, about what you said. He is irritable, you know, from bad health.”“Yes,” he said, quite in a whisper, “irritable from bad health, poor fellow.”He stood with the little landing-net in his hand, gazing down into the trough nearest to us as if watching the little trout; but his thoughts were, I dare say, of something else, and I did not like to disturb him, but stood giving a side look now and then at him, but for the most part watching his charge, and thinking how thoroughly man had imitated the shape of a fish in making a ship, even to the tail to steer it with. Then all at once I looked up, for there were voices outside, and I knew it was Jarette the Frenchman saying something very earnestly to Walters.I did not hear what either of them said, for they spoke in a very low tone, and in French. But I caught just the last words which were uttered by Jarette, and they were these—“Mais prenez-garde, mon ami. Prenez-garde.”Then they had passed on, and all was silent again, with Mr Preddle still watching the fish.“‘But take care, my friend, take care.’ That’s what he said,” I thought to myself; “I know French enough for that. Take care of what? And why does he call Walters ‘my friend’? He’s only a common sailor, and a midshipman even in a merchantman oughtn’t to be friends in that way with the men.”Then I laughed silently to myself as I thought of how fond I was of leaning over the bulwarks and talking to old Bob Hampton when he had the watch, and listening to his sea-tales about storms and pirates.“How ready one is to find fault with people one doesn’t like,” I said to myself.“I beg your pardon,” said Mr Preddle.“I didn’t speak, sir.”“No; but I had gone into a brown study. There, the fish will do now.”We both went on deck, and somehow when I was alone I too went into a brown study, and began wondering at Mr Preddle’s curious ways, and thinking what a pity it was that a gentleman like Mr Denning, who was on a voyage for the sake of his health, should take such a dislike to Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle too. It hardly seemed to be like irritability, for after all he was as merry and friendly with the officers as he was with me. I never went near him without his beckoning to me to come to his side, and both he and his sister were quite affectionate to me, making my first long voyage wonderfully pleasant, and the captain encouraged it.“He must have heard something about them,” I thought, and then I began to think about Walters and the French sailor and the other sailors, of those who seemed to form one party all to themselves, and of the others who kept more along with Bob Hampton and his two friends, who had sailed together for so many years.“There, what does it matter?” I said to myself, as I roused myself from my musings. “Walters doesn’t like Bob Hampton because Bob laughed at him, and that’s why he hangs toward Jarette; pities him, perhaps, because they both got into trouble with the officers, and birds of a feather flock together.”These were all dreamy thoughts, like clouds in my mind. I could not understand them. I grew wiser later on when the troubles came.
Down south we sailed as swiftly as favouring gales and plenty of sail could take us, and in course of time we had passed below the Azores, and every one on board was waking up to the fact that we were getting into latitudes where the weather grew hotter and more sunshiny day by day.
All the foul winds and rough seas had been left far behind in the north, and anything more delightful than the life on board it would have been impossible to conceive.
There were troubles, of course, and I used to think that the captain was unnecessarily severe on Jarette and several of the other men; but I set it down to a desire to preserve good discipline, and of course I felt that he must know best how to manage his crew.
The passengers passed the greater part of their time on deck, coming up early to bathe in the bright sunshine which made the metal look too hot to touch, and the tar to glisten in little beads all along beneath the ropes and about the seams of the deck, and they stayed late at night in the brilliant moonlight, till I used to think that our voyage was going to be one long time of pleasure; for every one—no, not every one—seemed to be happy and cheerful, and I made no end of friends. I had plenty to do, but even in their strictest moments the officers were pleasant to me, and I thought, thanks to the breaking in I had had with my father on his yacht, going to sea in a big clipper ship one of the most delightful of lives.
But there was some bitter in it. Walters and I never grew to be warm friends, though I did my best. He did not get on with the officers either, but used to seize every opportunity to get away and talk to some of the sailors, particularly with the Frenchman Jarette, who was in trouble with the captain just after our starting, but who, thanks to the severe treatment he had received, now proved to be one of the smartest of the crew.
He spoke English as well as I did, but if ever I drew near when Walters had gone to lean over the bulwarks and talk to him, I could hear that it was in French—bad French, spoken very slowly on Walters’ part, and he used to have to make Jarette say what he had to say two or three times over before he could quite make it out.
“No business of mine,” I thought. “I might do the same and practise up my French,” which needed it badly enough, for I had pretty well forgotten all I had learned.
Things were not quite happy either on deck. I did not thoroughly understand why, and attributed it to Mr Denning’s ill-temper, consequent upon his being unwell, for he was haughty and distant with Mr Frewen whenever he tried to be friendly, and I used to set it down to his having had so much to do with doctors that he quite hated them; but there seemed to be no reason why he should snub Mr Preddle so whenever the big stout fellow approached him and his sister and tried to enter into conversation.
Mr Preddle used to complain to me about it when I went with him to see to the aerating and giving fresh water to the fish, which needed a great deal of attention, and in spite of all our care would insist in turning wrong side up, to paddle about slowly and helplessly for a while, and then make a vigorous effort and swim naturally.
But the next minute they were back down and white up, and so they would go on till they were too weak to move, and a few minutes after they would die.
“Yes, it’s sad business, Alison Dale,” Mr Preddle would say with a sigh, as he lifted a little trout out of one tray, or a tiny salmon from another. “I’m afraid that I shall not have many left by the time I arrive over in New Zealand.”
“Perhaps they will get on better when we are in warmer parts.”
“I’m afraid they’ll die faster then,” he said, taking something out of a locked-up box under one of the water-troughs, and to my surprise I saw that it was an ordinary pair of kitchen bellows.
“What! are you going to light a fire to warm them, sir?” I said.
He smiled.
“No, no; don’t you know that fish require plenty of air?”
“Yes, I’ve heard something of the kind, and that if a pond is frozen over, and the ice is not broken, the fish die.”
“Exactly, for want of air. Look at those fish in that trough.”
“Yes, they’re hungry,” I said, for in one corner a number of them were putting their mouths nearly out of the water, and opening and shutting them.
“No, they want air; there is not enough in the water. Now you’ll see.”
He thrust the nozzle of the bellows beneath the surface, and began puffing away till the water boiled and bubbled and was covered with foam, while after the first few puffs the fish swam about more vigorously and left the surface.
“There, you see,” he said, “there is plenty of air now,” and he served the other troughs the same. “Now, look here, Alison Dale,” he said, as he replaced the bellows, and locked the box, “I’ll leave the key behind this trough, and if you would not mind, I should be greatly obliged if you would give the fish a little air now and then just to help me, for I should dearly like to keep the poor things alive.”
“Oh yes,” I said, “I’ll do it whenever I have a chance, but I don’t quite understand; I thought fish breathed water.”
“With air in it. If there is no air to mingle with the water, the fish soon die.”
“But air over the water, you mean,” I said.
“No; in the water; it will hold an enormous deal of air or gas. Look at soda-water, for instance, how full of gas that is, and how the tiny beads come bubbling out as soon as the pressure is removed. Now, if I only had a few fish in these troughs, there would be plenty of air for them naturally in the water, but with so many in my charge,” he sighed, “it must be supplied artificially.”
“All right, then, we’ll supply it artificially; but it looks very comic to be blowing the water with bellows instead of the fire, and if Walters catches me at it, he’ll tell everybody that I’ve gone mad.”
“Then you will help me?” he said, appealingly.
“Oh yes, I’ll help you,” I replied, and he looked so big and boyish that I felt as if I ought to slap him over the back and call him “old chap.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he said in his mild way; “and—er—er—”
Then he stopped, with his mouth opening and shutting; and as I stared at him, I could not help thinking how like he was to one of his fish.
“Yes,” I said; “you were going to say something.”
“Eh? Was I?” he said, looking quite red in the face, and uneasy. “Oh, it was nothing—nothing—I—er—I hardly know what I was about to say. Yes, I do,” he cried, desperately; “I remember now. You were close to us this morning when Mr Denning spoke to me. Did you hear what he said?”
“No, I was too far off,” I replied; “but he seemed to be speaking snappishly.”
“Yes, he does sometimes; I’m afraid that he does not like me.”
“You worry him,” I thought to myself, “by hanging about him so, and talking to Miss Denning when he wants her to read to him.”
“Yes?” said Mr Preddle; “what were you thinking?”
“Oh, about what you said. He is irritable, you know, from bad health.”
“Yes,” he said, quite in a whisper, “irritable from bad health, poor fellow.”
He stood with the little landing-net in his hand, gazing down into the trough nearest to us as if watching the little trout; but his thoughts were, I dare say, of something else, and I did not like to disturb him, but stood giving a side look now and then at him, but for the most part watching his charge, and thinking how thoroughly man had imitated the shape of a fish in making a ship, even to the tail to steer it with. Then all at once I looked up, for there were voices outside, and I knew it was Jarette the Frenchman saying something very earnestly to Walters.
I did not hear what either of them said, for they spoke in a very low tone, and in French. But I caught just the last words which were uttered by Jarette, and they were these—
“Mais prenez-garde, mon ami. Prenez-garde.”
Then they had passed on, and all was silent again, with Mr Preddle still watching the fish.
“‘But take care, my friend, take care.’ That’s what he said,” I thought to myself; “I know French enough for that. Take care of what? And why does he call Walters ‘my friend’? He’s only a common sailor, and a midshipman even in a merchantman oughtn’t to be friends in that way with the men.”
Then I laughed silently to myself as I thought of how fond I was of leaning over the bulwarks and talking to old Bob Hampton when he had the watch, and listening to his sea-tales about storms and pirates.
“How ready one is to find fault with people one doesn’t like,” I said to myself.
“I beg your pardon,” said Mr Preddle.
“I didn’t speak, sir.”
“No; but I had gone into a brown study. There, the fish will do now.”
We both went on deck, and somehow when I was alone I too went into a brown study, and began wondering at Mr Preddle’s curious ways, and thinking what a pity it was that a gentleman like Mr Denning, who was on a voyage for the sake of his health, should take such a dislike to Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle too. It hardly seemed to be like irritability, for after all he was as merry and friendly with the officers as he was with me. I never went near him without his beckoning to me to come to his side, and both he and his sister were quite affectionate to me, making my first long voyage wonderfully pleasant, and the captain encouraged it.
“He must have heard something about them,” I thought, and then I began to think about Walters and the French sailor and the other sailors, of those who seemed to form one party all to themselves, and of the others who kept more along with Bob Hampton and his two friends, who had sailed together for so many years.
“There, what does it matter?” I said to myself, as I roused myself from my musings. “Walters doesn’t like Bob Hampton because Bob laughed at him, and that’s why he hangs toward Jarette; pities him, perhaps, because they both got into trouble with the officers, and birds of a feather flock together.”
These were all dreamy thoughts, like clouds in my mind. I could not understand them. I grew wiser later on when the troubles came.
Chapter Eight.I had so many things to take up my attention that I forgot all about hearing Jarette and Walters talking together. Perhaps it came to mind once or twice afterwards, but it made no impression then, however much I may have thought about it afterwards. For then I was trying to learn my duties, studying up a little navigation, helping Mr Preddle with his fish that were to stock the New Zealand rivers with trout, and attending to Mr Denning. I suppose it was attending upon him, but to me it was all one jolly time of amusement, during which the poor fellow seemed to forget all about his bad health, and became as interested as a boy with our various bits of sport.Now in a fast steamer there is not much done, for I suppose that quick rush of the vessel, as it ploughs its way through the sea, startles the fish away to right and left, and then when they might be swimming quietly after the first rush, the tremendous beating up of the water by the whirling screw sends them off again, and makes the water so foamy that they cannot see a bait.But with a sailing vessel it is different. When there is not much wind, of course she glides along gently, leaving a wake of foam, but the water is not so disturbed; and soon after the weather had settled down, and was day by day growing warmer, so that the awning was rigged up over the poop, and our fishing began.“Oh yes,” Captain Berriman said, “fish away, sir, and the more fresh fish you catch for us, the better the passengers and crew will like it.”I was standing by one morning when this was said, and Miss Denning glanced at me and smiled as if she knew what was coming.“You will let young Dale help me?” said Mr Denning. “Want him?”“Oh yes.”“Take him, then. He isn’t much use,” said the captain, laughingly. “I often wonder why the owners have boys on board. Better have young Walters, he’s more of a sailor than this fellow.”“Oh no,” said Mr Denning, “I should like Dale.”“All right,” said the captain. “Don’t tumble overboard, Dale.”“I’ll try not, sir,” I said, “but I can swim.”“So much the better, my lad, but it takes a long time to lower a boat down, and a man overboard gets left a long way behind when a ship is in full sail.”He walked away, and looking as eager as I did, Mr Denning began about a fishing-line, while his sister looked bright and happy to see her brother so much interested in the plans he had in view.“I suppose there are plenty of fishing-lines on board,” he said. “Let’s get right back beyond the man at the wheel, and fish from there.”“I’ll go and see about the lines,” I said; and I went forward to where the boatswain was looking after some men who were bending on a new sail.“Lines? Fishin’-lines, my lad?—no, I don’t know of any.”Directly after I came upon Walters. “I say, do you know anything about any fishing-lines?” I said.“Of course I do,” he replied in a contemptuous tone; “who doesn’t?”“But where do they keep them—with the stores?”“Who’s going fishing?” said Walters. “Mr Denning.”“Oh! I’ll come and help him; I like fishing,” he said.I looked at him curiously, as I thought of what had been said, and then asked him again.“I don’t know,” he cried, “I don’t carry fishing-lines in my pockets. Ask old fat Preddle, he’s a regular fisherman. But you won’t catch any.”I did not think Mr Preddle was likely to have lines, so I did not ask him, but thought I would go and ask every man I met, when I caught sight of Bob Hampton, and went to him.“Fishin’-lines, my lad? No, I don’t think there’s any aboard.”“Yes, there are,” growled Barney; “I see Frenchy Jarette rigging some up t’other day, as if he meant to have a try.”I felt as if I did not like to ask a favour of the Frenchman, for somehow I did not like him; but feeling that Mr Denning would be disappointed if none were found, I asked where the man was, and found that he was down in the forecastle asleep, for he had been in one of the night watches.It was so dark there, that for a few moments I could not make out which of the sleeping men lying there was the one I sought. They were all breathing heavily, and at first going down out of the bright sunshine the faces all looked alike; but after getting a little more accustomed to the gloom, I saw a hand just where the faint rays came down through a little sky-light, and on one of the fingers there was a silver ring. Thinking that the wearer might possibly be the Frenchman, I went farther and looked a little more closely, and saw that I was right, for though I could not have been sure that the ring on the hand proved this to be the man I sought, one that I could just make out in the ear satisfied me, and stooping lower still I laid my hand upon his shoulder.The touch had no effect, and I took hold and shook him.“Jarette—Jarette!” I said.He sprang partly up with a faint cry, and to my horror, gripped me by the throat.“Curse you, I’ll— Ah, it’s you, cher ami,” he said, beginning fiercely, and changing his tone to a whisper. “No, no, not yet,” he continued, “it isn’t ripe. Wait, cher ami, wait a little.”“Jarette,” I said wonderingly, for the man puzzled me—I had no key to his meaning then—“wake up. I’m sorry I roused you, but we want a fishing-line, and Bob Hampton says you have some.”“What—to fish! No, you wish to speak. Hist! I—ah, I see now,” he cried quickly. “It is dark below. I see it is you, Mr Dale. Fishing-lines? Yes, I get you some.”“Why, you thought I was Mr Walters,” I said, laughing.“I?—my faith, no, sir. I was asleep and dreaming. Yes,” he continued, scrambling out and going to a canvas bag, out of which he drew a large square wooden winder.“There; it is a very long line and nearly new. I have not used it once, sir. Mister the captain objects to the men having these delassements, these untirings, when you are weary.”“Oh, thank you, Jarette,” I cried eagerly.“And here are these hooks, if the one at the end breaks.”“Yes.”“And the good fortune to you. Good luck you say it.”I went back on deck with my prize, and called at the galley, thinking no more of the Frenchman’s mistake.There the cook readily furnished me with a sharp knife and some tough rind pieces of pork and bacon liberally furnished on one side with fat.“Cut ’em in long baits, sir,” he said, “and the fish are sure to come at them.”“But they will taste too salt,” I said.He laughed.“How can a fish know whether the bait is salt when it takes it in salt water?”I had not thought of that, and I returned aft, passing Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle, both of whom looked disturbed, and then I reached the spot where I had left Mr Denning and his sister. He was looking angry, and Miss Denning had tears in her eyes as she quickly turned away.“I’ve got a line and baits,” I said, speaking as if I had not noticed that anything was wrong, though I felt sure that the doctor and Mr Preddle had been there in my absence.“You can take them back,” said Mr Denning, shortly, “I shall not fish to-day.”Miss Denning turned round quickly.“John dear!” she whispered, and she gave him a piteous look.He frowned and turned to me, when seeing, I suppose, my disappointment, he smoothed his face and then smiled.“Oh, very well,” he said, “I was going to my cabin, but we will have a try.”I saw Miss Denning lay her hand upon his arm, but took no notice, for I knelt down on the deck directly, cut a bait ready—a long strip of the bacon rind—stuck the point of the large sharp hook through one end as if I were going to fish for mackerel at home, and then after unwinding some of the line, to which a heavy leaden sinker was attached, I was about to throw the bait over the stern.“But that piece of lead will be too heavy,” cried Mr Denning, now full of interest in the fishing. “It will make the line hang straight down, and I keep seeing the fish play near the top.”I shook my head.“It will not sink six feet,” I said, “because we shall drag it along so fast. If we were going faster I should require a heavier lead.”“Ah, well, I suppose you know best,” he said, smiling. “Go on.”He gave an uneasy glance back along the deck to see if any one else were near but the man at the wheel, who had his back to us, and I let about fifty yards of the stout line run out before I checked it and placed it in Mr Denning’s hands as he stood leaning against the bulwarks.“Shall I give a twist round one of the belaying-pins?” I said.“What for?” he cried sharply. “Do you think I am too weak to hold it?”“Oh no,” I said quickly, “but we may hook a big fish, and the line would cut your hand.”He smiled as if he doubted me, and to guard against his letting go, I unwound the whole of the remaining line and laid it out in rings before fastening the winder tightly beneath the bulwark, so that even if the line were all run out the fish would be checked and caught.Just then Walters came sauntering up, and I could not help thinking that from his size and our uniform being the same, how easily we might be taken one for the other in the gloom of the forecastle.Mr Denning turned and looked at him for a moment, and then back to watch his line without a word, while Miss Denning bowed slightly.“They don’t like Walters,” I said to myself.“Had any bites?” he said with a sniggering laugh.“No,” replied Mr Denning, coldly; “I have only just begun.”There was silence for a few minutes, Walters’ coming having seemed to damp our proceedings.“Here, I know what’s the matter,” he said suddenly, taking a couple of steps close up to Mr Denning. “Your bait isn’t right.”“Mind!” I cried. “You’re treading on the line.”“Well, it won’t hurt it,” said Walters, roughly, and he kicked some of the rings up with one of his feet. Then to Mr Denning—“It isn’t as if I’d got on nailed boots. Here, let me pull in your bait and pat a proper one on. I’ve caught lots of fish. He doesn’t know anything about it.”“Thank you,” said Mr Denning, coldly, “when I require your help, I will ask for it. Ah!”He uttered a sharp ejaculation, as there came a sudden fierce tug at the line which dragged his hands right out to the full length of his arms and brought his chest heavily against his side.“Hooray! you’ve got him,” cried Walters, “and a big one too. Hold fast!”It was as if Mr Denning was playing at the old forfeit game of the Rules of Contrary, for he let go. The line rushed out, and the next moment the rings in which Walters had stepped tightened round his legs just as he was changing his position, and with so heavy a drag that the lad lost his balance and came down heavily upon the deck, which his head struck with a sharp rap.“That was your doing!” he shouted, as I rushed at him where he was struggling to free himself, for the line kept on tightening round him from the furious jerks given by the fish which had seized the bait.But I was not thinking of freeing him, only of getting hold of the line, and as he struck at me quickly, I thrust him back so sharply that his head struck the deck again.By that time I had hold of the line, and, thinking no more of Walters, I tried to hold the prize, but was fain to call excitedly upon Mr Denning to help me.He seized the line too, and for the next five minutes the fish was tearing about here and there in the water far below where we stood, and jerking our arms and shoulders till they ached. Now it would go off at right angles, now directly in the opposite direction.Then slacking the line for a few moments it shot right away aft, jerking the line so heavily that it was dragged through our hands. The next moment we saw what looked like a huge bar of blue and silver shoot right out of the water and come down with a heavy splash.“Gone!” I said with a groan, for there were no more fierce tugs, and as I hauled, the line came in yard by yard for me to cast down on the deck.“The line’s broken,” said Mr Denning in a husky voice, as he drew out his handkerchief to wipe his face.“Yes; it was a monster,” I said dolefully. “Oh, what a pity!”“Missed one?” said the captain.“Yes, sir; a great fellow, five feet long at least.”“One of the big albicores, I dare say,” he said. “They are very strong in the water. But he has not broken your line, has he?”“I’m afraid so,” I replied, as I hauled away till the lead rattled against the ship’s side. Then another haul or two brought the hook over the rail, for the line was not broken, but the stout wire hook had straightened with the weight of the fish, and had been drawn back out of the creature’s jaws.By this time Walters had pretty well cleared himself from the line tangled about his leg, and he stood looking on and scowling at me in turn as I removed the straightened hook, and put on another from the spare ones with which Jarette had furnished me. This I baited as before and threw over, the line running out rapidly till about the same length was out; and Mr Denning took hold again, the red spots in his cheeks showing how thoroughly he was interested in the sport.“Better luck to you this time,” said the captain, and he nodded and walked away; but Walters stayed, saying nothing, but leaning against the rail, and looking on in a sulky, ill-used way at me and my every action as I attended on Mr Denning.“We shall never get to be friends,” I thought. “He always looks as if he was so jealous that he would like to throw me overboard.”“Shall I fasten the line this time, sir?”“No, no; not on any account,” said Mr Denning. “It would take away half the excitement, and I get so little in my life. Eh, Lena?”Miss Denning smiled at him half-pityingly, and his face looked very gentle now as he smiled back at her. Then all his attention was directed to the line where it hit the water.“You will be ready to help if I hook a big one,” he said to me; “I’m not so strong as I used to be.”“I’ll catch hold directly you tell me,” I replied; “but perhaps it will be a small one this time.”I turned to arrange the spare line once more so that it would run out easily, and Miss Denning went closer to her brother, while I became aware now of the fact that Walters was watching me in a sour, sneering way.“What’s the matter?” I said.“Oh, go on,” he whispered; “make much of it. You did that on purpose just now.”“What, when you went down?” I said eagerly. “I didn’t, really.”“All right; I’m not blind, and I’m not a fool. Of course we’re the favourite, and everything is to give way to us; but never mind, my lad, every dog has his day.”I looked at him with a feeling of wonder that any one could be so thoroughly disagreeable, so determined to look at everything from a wrong point of view, and then I laughed, for it seemed to be utterly absurd that he should misconstrue even that look, for he exclaimed viciously—“That’s right, grin away, my lad; but the day may come when you’ll laugh the wrong side of your mouth.”“Why, what a chap you are, Nic!” I whispered. “I never saw such a fellow. Come, let’s be friends; I’m sure I want to.”“And I don’t, with a miserable sneak who is always trying to undermine me with people.”“Under-grandmother you,” I said in a low voice, so that Miss Denning should not hear. “Don’t talk such stuff.”“Go on. Insult me as much as you like,” he whispered back: “I shan’t say anything. You’re setting everybody against me, so that instead of being friends, as a young officer should with his equals, I’m obliged to go and talk to the men.”I could not help laughing again at his mock-tragic and absurd way of taking things, and as I honestly felt that if matters were unpleasant it was all his own fault, he leaned toward me now with his eyes half shut and his teeth pressed together as he whispered close to my ear—“All right. You’ll be sorry for it some day, and then—”“Here’s another, Dale! Quick!” cried Mr Denning.“Yes, yes, quick, quick,” cried his sister, and I offended poor Walters again quite unintentionally by swinging one arm across his chest in my hurry and excitement to get to Mr Denning’s help; and as I reached over the rail to get hold of the line, I felt sure that my messmate would think that I struck him. For the moment I felt vexed and sorry, then I could not help smiling to think how comic it was that I should keep on upsetting him. Then I forgot all about it in the excitement of righting the fish.“It’s a big one, Mr Denning,” I said, as we both held on to the line—holding on now with it across the rail. “Let’s give him a chance to run, and then haul in. Then he can run over again to tire himself.”Mr Denning was too much excited to speak, but he nodded his head, and we let the line run, after I had placed one foot upon it to hold it down on the deck and check its race.Away went the fish, with ring after ring working off beneath my foot till only about three yards were left.“Stop it now,” cried Mr Denning, and I pressed my foot down hard, feeling a curious quivering sensation run up my leg before I quite stopped the running.And now the fish began to rush in another direction, giving us an opportunity to haul in some of the line; but we soon had to let it go again; and every time I glanced at Walters, all hot, excited, and eager as I was, I could see that he was looking on with a half-mocking scowl.But the next minute he gave quite a start and seized the line, for the captain, Mr Brymer, and Mr Frewen had all come up on seeing that a fish had been hooked, and the former said sharply—“Come, Walters, don’t stand there with your hands in your pockets and let Dale do all the work.”And again I upset my messmate as if it were a fatality, for I cried out—“All right, sir, we can manage. Don’t touch the line, Walters.”“No; don’t touch the line!” cried Mr Denning, and the lad shrank back as if the thin hemp were red-hot.Then amidst plenty of excitement and some of the crew coming aft, I helped Mr Denning haul and haul till the fish was gradually drawn so close in that we could see its failing efforts to regain its freedom. Apparently it was nearly five feet long, and its sides flashed in the clear water where it was not foaming with the lashing of the captive’s vigorous widely-forked tail.“Bonito,” cried the captain.“No, no, albicore,” said Mr Brymer.“Suppose we wait till it’s fully caught,” said Mr Frewen, smiling at Miss Denning, when I saw her brother give him an angry look.But the next moment I was thinking only of the fish, which was now so exhausted that it had ceased struggling, and allowed itself to be dragged along in the wake of the ship, merely giving a flap with its tail from time to time which turned it from side to side.“Now,” said Mr Denning to me, “let us both haul it on board.”But I protested, saying that the weight of the fish would certainly break it away, and that we should lose it.To save us from such a catastrophe, I unfastened the other end of the line, made a running noose round the tight line beneath Mr Denning’s hands, and let it run down till the noose struck the fish on the nose, and made it give a furious plunge to escape.But the hook held firm in spite of my dread, and after a little twitching and shaking, with the lookers-on making remarks which only fidgeted me instead of helping, I managed to make the noose glide over the slippery body.“Now!” cried Mr Frewen, who was as interested as the rest; but before the word was well uttered, I had given the line a sharp snatch just as the running noose was in the narrow part before where the tail fin curved out above and below like a new moon.This meant a double hold, for the noose tightened, and now in spite of a fresh set of furious struggles the fish was steadily hauled out of the water, and we nearly had it up to the poop-rail, when the hook was torn out of its holding, and the fish hung down quivering and flapping from the noose about its tail.The weight seemed to be tremendous, but I gave two or three sharp tugs, had the fish over the rail, and over on to the deck, whose planks it began to belabour heavily, while we gazed excitedly at the beautiful creature glistening in its splendid coat of many colours, which flashed gold, silver, orange, scarlet, and metallic blue and green at every quivering blow.“What is it?” said Mr Denning eagerly, and I remember thinking how animated and well he looked that day.“Well,” said the captain, “many years as I’ve sailed these seas, I hardly know what to say. It’s something like a dolphin, but it’s more like a bonito, and it isn’t unlike an albicore. What should you say, Brymer?”“Quite fresh to me,” said the mate. “Certainly one of the mackerel family, by its head and the great crescent moon tail.”“Yes, and the short fins on front, top, and bottom. Never mind, it looks a good one for the table, and I congratulate you, Mr Denning, upon your luck. Going to try again?”“No,” said the invalid, peevishly, as he glanced quickly from his sister to the doctor and back. “Thank you for helping me, Alison Dale. Lena, your arm; I’ll go below.”No one spoke till he had disappeared, and then the captain shook his head.“Poor chap,” he said, with a sigh. “Here, Dale, Walters, carry the fish to the cook; Hampton—Dumlow, swabs and a bucket.”“Keep tight hold,” I cried to my companion, who was holding the head of the fish by a loop of yarn passed through its gills, while I carried it by getting a good grip of the thin tail.“Do you want to carry it yourself?”“Not at all. Too heavy.”Just then the fish began to quiver as if it were all steel spring, and waggled its tail so sharply that it flung off my grasp, and once more I offended Walters, for the fish fell across his feet.“There!” he cried, “you can’t deny that. You did it on purpose. A filthy, slimy thing!”As he stood there with both his hands clenched I thought he was going to strike me; but even if he had it would have made no difference, I should have been obliged to laugh, and laugh I did, till as I was wiping my eyes I found that Jarette the French sailor was close up and looking at me keenly.“Here, Barney Blane,” I said, “take hold.”The man grinned and came and helped me bear it away to the cook, after which I put away the tackle, hanging it to dry before giving it back to its owner.
I had so many things to take up my attention that I forgot all about hearing Jarette and Walters talking together. Perhaps it came to mind once or twice afterwards, but it made no impression then, however much I may have thought about it afterwards. For then I was trying to learn my duties, studying up a little navigation, helping Mr Preddle with his fish that were to stock the New Zealand rivers with trout, and attending to Mr Denning. I suppose it was attending upon him, but to me it was all one jolly time of amusement, during which the poor fellow seemed to forget all about his bad health, and became as interested as a boy with our various bits of sport.
Now in a fast steamer there is not much done, for I suppose that quick rush of the vessel, as it ploughs its way through the sea, startles the fish away to right and left, and then when they might be swimming quietly after the first rush, the tremendous beating up of the water by the whirling screw sends them off again, and makes the water so foamy that they cannot see a bait.
But with a sailing vessel it is different. When there is not much wind, of course she glides along gently, leaving a wake of foam, but the water is not so disturbed; and soon after the weather had settled down, and was day by day growing warmer, so that the awning was rigged up over the poop, and our fishing began.
“Oh yes,” Captain Berriman said, “fish away, sir, and the more fresh fish you catch for us, the better the passengers and crew will like it.”
I was standing by one morning when this was said, and Miss Denning glanced at me and smiled as if she knew what was coming.
“You will let young Dale help me?” said Mr Denning. “Want him?”
“Oh yes.”
“Take him, then. He isn’t much use,” said the captain, laughingly. “I often wonder why the owners have boys on board. Better have young Walters, he’s more of a sailor than this fellow.”
“Oh no,” said Mr Denning, “I should like Dale.”
“All right,” said the captain. “Don’t tumble overboard, Dale.”
“I’ll try not, sir,” I said, “but I can swim.”
“So much the better, my lad, but it takes a long time to lower a boat down, and a man overboard gets left a long way behind when a ship is in full sail.”
He walked away, and looking as eager as I did, Mr Denning began about a fishing-line, while his sister looked bright and happy to see her brother so much interested in the plans he had in view.
“I suppose there are plenty of fishing-lines on board,” he said. “Let’s get right back beyond the man at the wheel, and fish from there.”
“I’ll go and see about the lines,” I said; and I went forward to where the boatswain was looking after some men who were bending on a new sail.
“Lines? Fishin’-lines, my lad?—no, I don’t know of any.”
Directly after I came upon Walters. “I say, do you know anything about any fishing-lines?” I said.
“Of course I do,” he replied in a contemptuous tone; “who doesn’t?”
“But where do they keep them—with the stores?”
“Who’s going fishing?” said Walters. “Mr Denning.”
“Oh! I’ll come and help him; I like fishing,” he said.
I looked at him curiously, as I thought of what had been said, and then asked him again.
“I don’t know,” he cried, “I don’t carry fishing-lines in my pockets. Ask old fat Preddle, he’s a regular fisherman. But you won’t catch any.”
I did not think Mr Preddle was likely to have lines, so I did not ask him, but thought I would go and ask every man I met, when I caught sight of Bob Hampton, and went to him.
“Fishin’-lines, my lad? No, I don’t think there’s any aboard.”
“Yes, there are,” growled Barney; “I see Frenchy Jarette rigging some up t’other day, as if he meant to have a try.”
I felt as if I did not like to ask a favour of the Frenchman, for somehow I did not like him; but feeling that Mr Denning would be disappointed if none were found, I asked where the man was, and found that he was down in the forecastle asleep, for he had been in one of the night watches.
It was so dark there, that for a few moments I could not make out which of the sleeping men lying there was the one I sought. They were all breathing heavily, and at first going down out of the bright sunshine the faces all looked alike; but after getting a little more accustomed to the gloom, I saw a hand just where the faint rays came down through a little sky-light, and on one of the fingers there was a silver ring. Thinking that the wearer might possibly be the Frenchman, I went farther and looked a little more closely, and saw that I was right, for though I could not have been sure that the ring on the hand proved this to be the man I sought, one that I could just make out in the ear satisfied me, and stooping lower still I laid my hand upon his shoulder.
The touch had no effect, and I took hold and shook him.
“Jarette—Jarette!” I said.
He sprang partly up with a faint cry, and to my horror, gripped me by the throat.
“Curse you, I’ll— Ah, it’s you, cher ami,” he said, beginning fiercely, and changing his tone to a whisper. “No, no, not yet,” he continued, “it isn’t ripe. Wait, cher ami, wait a little.”
“Jarette,” I said wonderingly, for the man puzzled me—I had no key to his meaning then—“wake up. I’m sorry I roused you, but we want a fishing-line, and Bob Hampton says you have some.”
“What—to fish! No, you wish to speak. Hist! I—ah, I see now,” he cried quickly. “It is dark below. I see it is you, Mr Dale. Fishing-lines? Yes, I get you some.”
“Why, you thought I was Mr Walters,” I said, laughing.
“I?—my faith, no, sir. I was asleep and dreaming. Yes,” he continued, scrambling out and going to a canvas bag, out of which he drew a large square wooden winder.
“There; it is a very long line and nearly new. I have not used it once, sir. Mister the captain objects to the men having these delassements, these untirings, when you are weary.”
“Oh, thank you, Jarette,” I cried eagerly.
“And here are these hooks, if the one at the end breaks.”
“Yes.”
“And the good fortune to you. Good luck you say it.”
I went back on deck with my prize, and called at the galley, thinking no more of the Frenchman’s mistake.
There the cook readily furnished me with a sharp knife and some tough rind pieces of pork and bacon liberally furnished on one side with fat.
“Cut ’em in long baits, sir,” he said, “and the fish are sure to come at them.”
“But they will taste too salt,” I said.
He laughed.
“How can a fish know whether the bait is salt when it takes it in salt water?”
I had not thought of that, and I returned aft, passing Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle, both of whom looked disturbed, and then I reached the spot where I had left Mr Denning and his sister. He was looking angry, and Miss Denning had tears in her eyes as she quickly turned away.
“I’ve got a line and baits,” I said, speaking as if I had not noticed that anything was wrong, though I felt sure that the doctor and Mr Preddle had been there in my absence.
“You can take them back,” said Mr Denning, shortly, “I shall not fish to-day.”
Miss Denning turned round quickly.
“John dear!” she whispered, and she gave him a piteous look.
He frowned and turned to me, when seeing, I suppose, my disappointment, he smoothed his face and then smiled.
“Oh, very well,” he said, “I was going to my cabin, but we will have a try.”
I saw Miss Denning lay her hand upon his arm, but took no notice, for I knelt down on the deck directly, cut a bait ready—a long strip of the bacon rind—stuck the point of the large sharp hook through one end as if I were going to fish for mackerel at home, and then after unwinding some of the line, to which a heavy leaden sinker was attached, I was about to throw the bait over the stern.
“But that piece of lead will be too heavy,” cried Mr Denning, now full of interest in the fishing. “It will make the line hang straight down, and I keep seeing the fish play near the top.”
I shook my head.
“It will not sink six feet,” I said, “because we shall drag it along so fast. If we were going faster I should require a heavier lead.”
“Ah, well, I suppose you know best,” he said, smiling. “Go on.”
He gave an uneasy glance back along the deck to see if any one else were near but the man at the wheel, who had his back to us, and I let about fifty yards of the stout line run out before I checked it and placed it in Mr Denning’s hands as he stood leaning against the bulwarks.
“Shall I give a twist round one of the belaying-pins?” I said.
“What for?” he cried sharply. “Do you think I am too weak to hold it?”
“Oh no,” I said quickly, “but we may hook a big fish, and the line would cut your hand.”
He smiled as if he doubted me, and to guard against his letting go, I unwound the whole of the remaining line and laid it out in rings before fastening the winder tightly beneath the bulwark, so that even if the line were all run out the fish would be checked and caught.
Just then Walters came sauntering up, and I could not help thinking that from his size and our uniform being the same, how easily we might be taken one for the other in the gloom of the forecastle.
Mr Denning turned and looked at him for a moment, and then back to watch his line without a word, while Miss Denning bowed slightly.
“They don’t like Walters,” I said to myself.
“Had any bites?” he said with a sniggering laugh.
“No,” replied Mr Denning, coldly; “I have only just begun.”
There was silence for a few minutes, Walters’ coming having seemed to damp our proceedings.
“Here, I know what’s the matter,” he said suddenly, taking a couple of steps close up to Mr Denning. “Your bait isn’t right.”
“Mind!” I cried. “You’re treading on the line.”
“Well, it won’t hurt it,” said Walters, roughly, and he kicked some of the rings up with one of his feet. Then to Mr Denning—“It isn’t as if I’d got on nailed boots. Here, let me pull in your bait and pat a proper one on. I’ve caught lots of fish. He doesn’t know anything about it.”
“Thank you,” said Mr Denning, coldly, “when I require your help, I will ask for it. Ah!”
He uttered a sharp ejaculation, as there came a sudden fierce tug at the line which dragged his hands right out to the full length of his arms and brought his chest heavily against his side.
“Hooray! you’ve got him,” cried Walters, “and a big one too. Hold fast!”
It was as if Mr Denning was playing at the old forfeit game of the Rules of Contrary, for he let go. The line rushed out, and the next moment the rings in which Walters had stepped tightened round his legs just as he was changing his position, and with so heavy a drag that the lad lost his balance and came down heavily upon the deck, which his head struck with a sharp rap.
“That was your doing!” he shouted, as I rushed at him where he was struggling to free himself, for the line kept on tightening round him from the furious jerks given by the fish which had seized the bait.
But I was not thinking of freeing him, only of getting hold of the line, and as he struck at me quickly, I thrust him back so sharply that his head struck the deck again.
By that time I had hold of the line, and, thinking no more of Walters, I tried to hold the prize, but was fain to call excitedly upon Mr Denning to help me.
He seized the line too, and for the next five minutes the fish was tearing about here and there in the water far below where we stood, and jerking our arms and shoulders till they ached. Now it would go off at right angles, now directly in the opposite direction.
Then slacking the line for a few moments it shot right away aft, jerking the line so heavily that it was dragged through our hands. The next moment we saw what looked like a huge bar of blue and silver shoot right out of the water and come down with a heavy splash.
“Gone!” I said with a groan, for there were no more fierce tugs, and as I hauled, the line came in yard by yard for me to cast down on the deck.
“The line’s broken,” said Mr Denning in a husky voice, as he drew out his handkerchief to wipe his face.
“Yes; it was a monster,” I said dolefully. “Oh, what a pity!”
“Missed one?” said the captain.
“Yes, sir; a great fellow, five feet long at least.”
“One of the big albicores, I dare say,” he said. “They are very strong in the water. But he has not broken your line, has he?”
“I’m afraid so,” I replied, as I hauled away till the lead rattled against the ship’s side. Then another haul or two brought the hook over the rail, for the line was not broken, but the stout wire hook had straightened with the weight of the fish, and had been drawn back out of the creature’s jaws.
By this time Walters had pretty well cleared himself from the line tangled about his leg, and he stood looking on and scowling at me in turn as I removed the straightened hook, and put on another from the spare ones with which Jarette had furnished me. This I baited as before and threw over, the line running out rapidly till about the same length was out; and Mr Denning took hold again, the red spots in his cheeks showing how thoroughly he was interested in the sport.
“Better luck to you this time,” said the captain, and he nodded and walked away; but Walters stayed, saying nothing, but leaning against the rail, and looking on in a sulky, ill-used way at me and my every action as I attended on Mr Denning.
“We shall never get to be friends,” I thought. “He always looks as if he was so jealous that he would like to throw me overboard.”
“Shall I fasten the line this time, sir?”
“No, no; not on any account,” said Mr Denning. “It would take away half the excitement, and I get so little in my life. Eh, Lena?”
Miss Denning smiled at him half-pityingly, and his face looked very gentle now as he smiled back at her. Then all his attention was directed to the line where it hit the water.
“You will be ready to help if I hook a big one,” he said to me; “I’m not so strong as I used to be.”
“I’ll catch hold directly you tell me,” I replied; “but perhaps it will be a small one this time.”
I turned to arrange the spare line once more so that it would run out easily, and Miss Denning went closer to her brother, while I became aware now of the fact that Walters was watching me in a sour, sneering way.
“What’s the matter?” I said.
“Oh, go on,” he whispered; “make much of it. You did that on purpose just now.”
“What, when you went down?” I said eagerly. “I didn’t, really.”
“All right; I’m not blind, and I’m not a fool. Of course we’re the favourite, and everything is to give way to us; but never mind, my lad, every dog has his day.”
I looked at him with a feeling of wonder that any one could be so thoroughly disagreeable, so determined to look at everything from a wrong point of view, and then I laughed, for it seemed to be utterly absurd that he should misconstrue even that look, for he exclaimed viciously—
“That’s right, grin away, my lad; but the day may come when you’ll laugh the wrong side of your mouth.”
“Why, what a chap you are, Nic!” I whispered. “I never saw such a fellow. Come, let’s be friends; I’m sure I want to.”
“And I don’t, with a miserable sneak who is always trying to undermine me with people.”
“Under-grandmother you,” I said in a low voice, so that Miss Denning should not hear. “Don’t talk such stuff.”
“Go on. Insult me as much as you like,” he whispered back: “I shan’t say anything. You’re setting everybody against me, so that instead of being friends, as a young officer should with his equals, I’m obliged to go and talk to the men.”
I could not help laughing again at his mock-tragic and absurd way of taking things, and as I honestly felt that if matters were unpleasant it was all his own fault, he leaned toward me now with his eyes half shut and his teeth pressed together as he whispered close to my ear—
“All right. You’ll be sorry for it some day, and then—”
“Here’s another, Dale! Quick!” cried Mr Denning.
“Yes, yes, quick, quick,” cried his sister, and I offended poor Walters again quite unintentionally by swinging one arm across his chest in my hurry and excitement to get to Mr Denning’s help; and as I reached over the rail to get hold of the line, I felt sure that my messmate would think that I struck him. For the moment I felt vexed and sorry, then I could not help smiling to think how comic it was that I should keep on upsetting him. Then I forgot all about it in the excitement of righting the fish.
“It’s a big one, Mr Denning,” I said, as we both held on to the line—holding on now with it across the rail. “Let’s give him a chance to run, and then haul in. Then he can run over again to tire himself.”
Mr Denning was too much excited to speak, but he nodded his head, and we let the line run, after I had placed one foot upon it to hold it down on the deck and check its race.
Away went the fish, with ring after ring working off beneath my foot till only about three yards were left.
“Stop it now,” cried Mr Denning, and I pressed my foot down hard, feeling a curious quivering sensation run up my leg before I quite stopped the running.
And now the fish began to rush in another direction, giving us an opportunity to haul in some of the line; but we soon had to let it go again; and every time I glanced at Walters, all hot, excited, and eager as I was, I could see that he was looking on with a half-mocking scowl.
But the next minute he gave quite a start and seized the line, for the captain, Mr Brymer, and Mr Frewen had all come up on seeing that a fish had been hooked, and the former said sharply—
“Come, Walters, don’t stand there with your hands in your pockets and let Dale do all the work.”
And again I upset my messmate as if it were a fatality, for I cried out—
“All right, sir, we can manage. Don’t touch the line, Walters.”
“No; don’t touch the line!” cried Mr Denning, and the lad shrank back as if the thin hemp were red-hot.
Then amidst plenty of excitement and some of the crew coming aft, I helped Mr Denning haul and haul till the fish was gradually drawn so close in that we could see its failing efforts to regain its freedom. Apparently it was nearly five feet long, and its sides flashed in the clear water where it was not foaming with the lashing of the captive’s vigorous widely-forked tail.
“Bonito,” cried the captain.
“No, no, albicore,” said Mr Brymer.
“Suppose we wait till it’s fully caught,” said Mr Frewen, smiling at Miss Denning, when I saw her brother give him an angry look.
But the next moment I was thinking only of the fish, which was now so exhausted that it had ceased struggling, and allowed itself to be dragged along in the wake of the ship, merely giving a flap with its tail from time to time which turned it from side to side.
“Now,” said Mr Denning to me, “let us both haul it on board.”
But I protested, saying that the weight of the fish would certainly break it away, and that we should lose it.
To save us from such a catastrophe, I unfastened the other end of the line, made a running noose round the tight line beneath Mr Denning’s hands, and let it run down till the noose struck the fish on the nose, and made it give a furious plunge to escape.
But the hook held firm in spite of my dread, and after a little twitching and shaking, with the lookers-on making remarks which only fidgeted me instead of helping, I managed to make the noose glide over the slippery body.
“Now!” cried Mr Frewen, who was as interested as the rest; but before the word was well uttered, I had given the line a sharp snatch just as the running noose was in the narrow part before where the tail fin curved out above and below like a new moon.
This meant a double hold, for the noose tightened, and now in spite of a fresh set of furious struggles the fish was steadily hauled out of the water, and we nearly had it up to the poop-rail, when the hook was torn out of its holding, and the fish hung down quivering and flapping from the noose about its tail.
The weight seemed to be tremendous, but I gave two or three sharp tugs, had the fish over the rail, and over on to the deck, whose planks it began to belabour heavily, while we gazed excitedly at the beautiful creature glistening in its splendid coat of many colours, which flashed gold, silver, orange, scarlet, and metallic blue and green at every quivering blow.
“What is it?” said Mr Denning eagerly, and I remember thinking how animated and well he looked that day.
“Well,” said the captain, “many years as I’ve sailed these seas, I hardly know what to say. It’s something like a dolphin, but it’s more like a bonito, and it isn’t unlike an albicore. What should you say, Brymer?”
“Quite fresh to me,” said the mate. “Certainly one of the mackerel family, by its head and the great crescent moon tail.”
“Yes, and the short fins on front, top, and bottom. Never mind, it looks a good one for the table, and I congratulate you, Mr Denning, upon your luck. Going to try again?”
“No,” said the invalid, peevishly, as he glanced quickly from his sister to the doctor and back. “Thank you for helping me, Alison Dale. Lena, your arm; I’ll go below.”
No one spoke till he had disappeared, and then the captain shook his head.
“Poor chap,” he said, with a sigh. “Here, Dale, Walters, carry the fish to the cook; Hampton—Dumlow, swabs and a bucket.”
“Keep tight hold,” I cried to my companion, who was holding the head of the fish by a loop of yarn passed through its gills, while I carried it by getting a good grip of the thin tail.
“Do you want to carry it yourself?”
“Not at all. Too heavy.”
Just then the fish began to quiver as if it were all steel spring, and waggled its tail so sharply that it flung off my grasp, and once more I offended Walters, for the fish fell across his feet.
“There!” he cried, “you can’t deny that. You did it on purpose. A filthy, slimy thing!”
As he stood there with both his hands clenched I thought he was going to strike me; but even if he had it would have made no difference, I should have been obliged to laugh, and laugh I did, till as I was wiping my eyes I found that Jarette the French sailor was close up and looking at me keenly.
“Here, Barney Blane,” I said, “take hold.”
The man grinned and came and helped me bear it away to the cook, after which I put away the tackle, hanging it to dry before giving it back to its owner.
Chapter Nine.All at once, just as our life at sea was as calm and peaceful as could be, Captain Berriman grew quite queer in his manner. He was pleasant enough to the passengers, and I never had an unkind word from him, but he was most tyrannical to a number of the men, ordering them about, making them set fresh sail, take it down, and altering his orders half-a-dozen times over, till the men used to go about muttering, and more than once I heard words spoken about him that were startling, to say the least.One evening when it was very dark, the moon not having risen, I was looking over the side and down into the calm, black water which was as full of tiny specks of light as the sky above me, and every now and then these little glittering points beneath the surface would be driven here and there as if a fish had swum sharply by. It was all so beautiful, to watch point after point gliding about lower and lower till all was jet black, that I had forgotten everything, heard nothing, till all at once just behind me I heard Mr Brymer say—“Of course it is very unpleasant for me. I’m afraid the men will not stand much more of it. Do you think he is going mad?”There was a pause for a few moments, and then Mr Frewen said—“No; I feel sure that it is only a temporary trouble due to the heat and over-anxiety about the ship.”“But he is getting worse; and twice over to-day I felt as if I ought to shut him up in his cabin and take charge altogether.”“No, I should not do that,” said Mr Frewen, “so long as nothing serious goes wrong. If he really gets too bad, I suppose I must help you by justifying your proceedings in superseding him.”“For the owners’ sake, of course.”“Of course. It is a very serious position for us both. But there, he may be better to-morrow. If not, we must hope for the improvement when we get further south.”“Then you would not take command?”“Certainly not, under the present circumstances.”“Halloa!” cried Mr Brymer—“a spy! Who’s that—Walters?”“No, sir; it is I.”“And what are you doing there, listening?”“I was watching the phosphorescence of the sea, sir, and you came and stood close to me and began talking.”“And you heard?” said Mr Frewen.“Every word, sir.”“And do you know that we were talking about Mr Denning?” said the mate.“No; you were talking about the captain.”They were silent for a few moments, and then Mr Frewen spoke.“Look here, Dale,” he said, “this is a delicate matter. You have seen that Captain Berriman is ill?”“I thought he was very strange, and a bit cross sometimes.”“Far worse than that. Look here, Dale, if you go chattering about what you have heard,” said Mr Brymer, “you may make a great deal of mischief.”“I am not likely to talk about it to anybody unless it be to Mr Denning,” I said, feeling a little hurt.“Then pray don’t mention it to him. It would only make him and his sister uneasy,” cried Mr Frewen, quickly.“I’m afraid they’ve seen enough for themselves,” said Mr Brymer. “Look here, youngster, I shall speak plainly to you, because you are a sensible lad. If you spoke about what we have said, and it reached Captain Berriman’s ear now he is in that excitable state, he would immediately think I was conspiring against him, go frantic, and there might be terrible mischief. So don’t say a word, even to your messmate, or he’ll go chattering to that French scoundrel and the rest of the men. By the way, Dale, let me give you a word of advice. I don’t like the way in which young Walters is going on. It is not becoming for a midshipman or apprentice to make friends too readily with the sailors. Don’t you follow his example.”“I don’t sir,” I said indignantly.“Softly, my lad; I’ve seen you talking a good deal with that old fellow Hampton, and the two men with him.”“Oh yes; I have talked to them a good deal,” I said: “but it was only when we were on the watch, and I wanted them to tell me something about the sea.”“Ah, well, be careful, my lad. Here, shake hands. I’m not cross with you, for you have behaved uncommonly well since you’ve been on board. There, that will do.”“Good-night, Dale,” said Mr Frewen, kindly; “a still tongue maketh a wise head, my lad.”They walked on, and disappeared in the darkness directly, while I stood with my back to the bulwarks and my hands in my pockets, thinking about what they had said, and recalling the little things I had thought nothing of at the time, but which came back now looking to be big things. Yes, I remembered the captain had certainly been rather strange in his manner sometimes. Why, of course, Mr Denning had said to his sister that the captain need not be so disagreeable to the men.I was just wondering what would happen, and then thinking that it would not make much difference if Mr Brymer were captain, and that it would be better perhaps for Captain Berriman to lie by and be attended by Mr Frewen, when I heard a sound over my head—something like a low hiss.“Some kind of night-bird,” I thought. But the next moment I felt quite startled, for the sound was repeated, and I knew now that it was some one whispering. Then, as I stood quite still in the darkness, with the glow coming from the cabin-windows and from the binnacle-light, there was a faint rushing up above, and a little off to my left, and directly after I knew what it was,—somebody’s feet on the ratlines coming down from the main-top.There was no sail being made or reduced, and it seemed strange for any one to be up there, and it had just struck me that perhaps it was Captain Berriman, who had seen Mr Brymer and Mr Frewen talking together and had gone up to listen, when, so close to me that I wondered I was not seen, somebody stepped down on to the top of the bulwarks, and then swung himself softly on to the deck; then crouching down close under the side, he crept forward swiftly and was gone.“That couldn’t have been the captain,” I thought; “the step was too light. It was some one quite active.”I was thinking of going forward to try and make out, when there was another rustling noise above, which recalled the whispering that had passed out of my mind for the moment; then the rustling continued, and some one else came down, stepped lightly on the deck, and stood perfectly still as if looking about to see if any one was near.It was so dark that I could not make out who it was till he walked aft not very far from where I stood, and a few moments later I saw who it was, for his figure came between my eyes and the glow from the cabin-windows.“Why, it was Walters,” I said to myself, and then I began to wonder more and more what it all meant. I ran it over in my mind, but I could not think of any one at all likely to be Walters’ companion at night in the main-top; in fact, I could not think of any one at all likely to climb up so high, or even half-way up the shrouds.“It couldn’t have been a cabin passenger,” I thought, “for he went forward; nor yet one of the steerage people.”Then I knew, and wondered that I had not thought of him at first.“Why, it was Jarette,” I said to myself. “He’s as light and active as a cat.”I waited a bit; and then went slowly right forward and stood for a time with the men at the look-out, to gaze right away into the soft, hot, black darkness, thinking how easily we might run into another vessel, or another vessel run into us. Then setting my face aft, I went back along the starboard side, and made my way, blinking like an owl after being so long in the darkness, into the saloon-cabin, where the passengers were sitting about, some reading, others working, and where on one side I found Mr Denning playing chess with his sister.Everything looked calm, and as if the people were happy enough, and never thinking it likely there could be any trouble about Captain Berriman or anything else.But the saloon-cabin was so warm down there in the south that I soon went back on deck to hang over the bulwarks for a time, and then go right aft to look down at the sparkling water, all ablaze now as it seemed to rush from both sides of the rudder, where in the daytime all would be white foam.I had no duty to perform that night to keep me on deck; but still I lingered, thinking that perhaps the cabin would be terribly hot, as it had been on the previous night, only I dropped off to sleep so soon that the heat did not trouble me.“And I shall have it all to myself to-night,” I thought, “for Walters will have to take his turn in the watch.”At last, half envying him the task of passing a good deal of the night on deck, I took a look round. The saloon-lights were out, and there was no one there; the sailing-lights were up in their places, and the faint glow rose from about the binnacle, just faintly showing the steersman’s face. Away forward I could hear the low murmur of conversation where the watch were on duty, and now, for the first time, I yawned, and some one spoke from close behind me and made me start.“Well,” he said, “if you are so drowsy as that, why don’t you go to your bunk?”“Just going, sir,” I said, for it was the first mate, Mr Brymer; and now I hurried down, threw off my clothes, and in a very few minutes I was sound asleep.I suppose it was the heat, for I don’t believe that it had anything to do with the coming danger, but at any rate I slept badly that night—an uneasy, troubled kind of sleep, such as I should have expected to have if some one was to come and call me about two bells.It must have been about that time that I was lying more asleep than awake, but sufficiently conscious to spring up in my berth and say quite aloud—“Yes; what is it?”There was no reply, though I could have declared that some one called me. But though there was no reply, I could hear voices. Some one was giving orders in a sharp, angry voice; and directly after, I could hear a scuffling sound, followed by a savage curse uttered in a low voice, and then there was the sound of a fall.Something was evidently wrong, and for a few moments I was sure that the captain had found out about the conversation which had taken place, and had now taken matters into his hands in no mild fashion. Mr Brymer was the last man I saw on deck, and without doubt that must be he.I lay there, with the perspiration oozing out of every pore, and listened for the next sounds; but all was still for a few moments. Then there were evidently people running about on deck, and a chill of horror ran through me as I now noticed that something was wrong with the ship. For instead of rising and falling steadily as she glided onward, she was right down in the trough of the sea, and swaying and rolling in a way that was startling. Fully convinced now that we had gone on a rock or a sandbank—being ready to imagine anything in my excitement—I rolled out of my berth and began to hurry on some clothes.I never dressed more quickly in my life, for as I hastily slipped on my things, there was the sharp report of a gun or pistol, and a loud crash as of a door being burst in. Then the hush and quiet was at an end; there was a piercing shriek, another shot, followed by the sounds of struggling, loud and angry voices, then cries for help; and I made for the deck as quickly as I could, to find all in darkness. But men were running here and there, a sharp voice was giving orders, and then I saw the flash of a pistol or gun. The report came, there was a low groan, and then all at once some one rose as it were out of the darkness and made a blow at me, for I heard the whish of a weapon.But the blow was made in the dark, and had no effect; but whoever struck now made a dash at me, and I ducked down, leaped sidewise, and with my heart in my mouth ran right forward, with whoever it was in pursuit.I felt that I knew who it was now as I ran. The captain really had gone mad, and as I ran and heard the steps behind me, fear lent me great speed. Other people had been shot or cut down, and something terrible was going on. So I ran for my life to take refuge with the crew in the forecastle; but as I reached it, there was struggling and fighting going on there, and I crossed the deck to run back aft on the other side, meaning to reach Mr Brymer’s cabin or Mr Frewen’s if I could.For a moment I fancied that I had evaded my pursuer, but there was another dash made for me again out of the darkness, and I ran on.“Look out there, you, sir,” cried a voice from behind me; “here comes one.”This told me that there were enemies in front, and I was ready to dart anywhere to avoid whoever tried to stop me.That there was danger I soon found, for struggling, and oaths, and curses saluted my ears again as I reached the ladder and ran up on to the poop-deck, just as a shout from near the wheel drove me back.“Got him?” shouted some one.“No; where is he?”I was crouching now under the starboard bulwark, and feeling certain that in another minute I should be found, I passed my hand upward, searched about, and found that which I sought, the mizzen-shrouds. The next minute I had caught well hold with both hands, swung up my feet, and went on inboard hand over hand till I was twenty feet above the deck, clinging there in the darkness, and listening to the efforts made—evidently by three or four men—beneath to find out where I could be gone.
All at once, just as our life at sea was as calm and peaceful as could be, Captain Berriman grew quite queer in his manner. He was pleasant enough to the passengers, and I never had an unkind word from him, but he was most tyrannical to a number of the men, ordering them about, making them set fresh sail, take it down, and altering his orders half-a-dozen times over, till the men used to go about muttering, and more than once I heard words spoken about him that were startling, to say the least.
One evening when it was very dark, the moon not having risen, I was looking over the side and down into the calm, black water which was as full of tiny specks of light as the sky above me, and every now and then these little glittering points beneath the surface would be driven here and there as if a fish had swum sharply by. It was all so beautiful, to watch point after point gliding about lower and lower till all was jet black, that I had forgotten everything, heard nothing, till all at once just behind me I heard Mr Brymer say—
“Of course it is very unpleasant for me. I’m afraid the men will not stand much more of it. Do you think he is going mad?”
There was a pause for a few moments, and then Mr Frewen said—
“No; I feel sure that it is only a temporary trouble due to the heat and over-anxiety about the ship.”
“But he is getting worse; and twice over to-day I felt as if I ought to shut him up in his cabin and take charge altogether.”
“No, I should not do that,” said Mr Frewen, “so long as nothing serious goes wrong. If he really gets too bad, I suppose I must help you by justifying your proceedings in superseding him.”
“For the owners’ sake, of course.”
“Of course. It is a very serious position for us both. But there, he may be better to-morrow. If not, we must hope for the improvement when we get further south.”
“Then you would not take command?”
“Certainly not, under the present circumstances.”
“Halloa!” cried Mr Brymer—“a spy! Who’s that—Walters?”
“No, sir; it is I.”
“And what are you doing there, listening?”
“I was watching the phosphorescence of the sea, sir, and you came and stood close to me and began talking.”
“And you heard?” said Mr Frewen.
“Every word, sir.”
“And do you know that we were talking about Mr Denning?” said the mate.
“No; you were talking about the captain.”
They were silent for a few moments, and then Mr Frewen spoke.
“Look here, Dale,” he said, “this is a delicate matter. You have seen that Captain Berriman is ill?”
“I thought he was very strange, and a bit cross sometimes.”
“Far worse than that. Look here, Dale, if you go chattering about what you have heard,” said Mr Brymer, “you may make a great deal of mischief.”
“I am not likely to talk about it to anybody unless it be to Mr Denning,” I said, feeling a little hurt.
“Then pray don’t mention it to him. It would only make him and his sister uneasy,” cried Mr Frewen, quickly.
“I’m afraid they’ve seen enough for themselves,” said Mr Brymer. “Look here, youngster, I shall speak plainly to you, because you are a sensible lad. If you spoke about what we have said, and it reached Captain Berriman’s ear now he is in that excitable state, he would immediately think I was conspiring against him, go frantic, and there might be terrible mischief. So don’t say a word, even to your messmate, or he’ll go chattering to that French scoundrel and the rest of the men. By the way, Dale, let me give you a word of advice. I don’t like the way in which young Walters is going on. It is not becoming for a midshipman or apprentice to make friends too readily with the sailors. Don’t you follow his example.”
“I don’t sir,” I said indignantly.
“Softly, my lad; I’ve seen you talking a good deal with that old fellow Hampton, and the two men with him.”
“Oh yes; I have talked to them a good deal,” I said: “but it was only when we were on the watch, and I wanted them to tell me something about the sea.”
“Ah, well, be careful, my lad. Here, shake hands. I’m not cross with you, for you have behaved uncommonly well since you’ve been on board. There, that will do.”
“Good-night, Dale,” said Mr Frewen, kindly; “a still tongue maketh a wise head, my lad.”
They walked on, and disappeared in the darkness directly, while I stood with my back to the bulwarks and my hands in my pockets, thinking about what they had said, and recalling the little things I had thought nothing of at the time, but which came back now looking to be big things. Yes, I remembered the captain had certainly been rather strange in his manner sometimes. Why, of course, Mr Denning had said to his sister that the captain need not be so disagreeable to the men.
I was just wondering what would happen, and then thinking that it would not make much difference if Mr Brymer were captain, and that it would be better perhaps for Captain Berriman to lie by and be attended by Mr Frewen, when I heard a sound over my head—something like a low hiss.
“Some kind of night-bird,” I thought. But the next moment I felt quite startled, for the sound was repeated, and I knew now that it was some one whispering. Then, as I stood quite still in the darkness, with the glow coming from the cabin-windows and from the binnacle-light, there was a faint rushing up above, and a little off to my left, and directly after I knew what it was,—somebody’s feet on the ratlines coming down from the main-top.
There was no sail being made or reduced, and it seemed strange for any one to be up there, and it had just struck me that perhaps it was Captain Berriman, who had seen Mr Brymer and Mr Frewen talking together and had gone up to listen, when, so close to me that I wondered I was not seen, somebody stepped down on to the top of the bulwarks, and then swung himself softly on to the deck; then crouching down close under the side, he crept forward swiftly and was gone.
“That couldn’t have been the captain,” I thought; “the step was too light. It was some one quite active.”
I was thinking of going forward to try and make out, when there was another rustling noise above, which recalled the whispering that had passed out of my mind for the moment; then the rustling continued, and some one else came down, stepped lightly on the deck, and stood perfectly still as if looking about to see if any one was near.
It was so dark that I could not make out who it was till he walked aft not very far from where I stood, and a few moments later I saw who it was, for his figure came between my eyes and the glow from the cabin-windows.
“Why, it was Walters,” I said to myself, and then I began to wonder more and more what it all meant. I ran it over in my mind, but I could not think of any one at all likely to be Walters’ companion at night in the main-top; in fact, I could not think of any one at all likely to climb up so high, or even half-way up the shrouds.
“It couldn’t have been a cabin passenger,” I thought, “for he went forward; nor yet one of the steerage people.”
Then I knew, and wondered that I had not thought of him at first.
“Why, it was Jarette,” I said to myself. “He’s as light and active as a cat.”
I waited a bit; and then went slowly right forward and stood for a time with the men at the look-out, to gaze right away into the soft, hot, black darkness, thinking how easily we might run into another vessel, or another vessel run into us. Then setting my face aft, I went back along the starboard side, and made my way, blinking like an owl after being so long in the darkness, into the saloon-cabin, where the passengers were sitting about, some reading, others working, and where on one side I found Mr Denning playing chess with his sister.
Everything looked calm, and as if the people were happy enough, and never thinking it likely there could be any trouble about Captain Berriman or anything else.
But the saloon-cabin was so warm down there in the south that I soon went back on deck to hang over the bulwarks for a time, and then go right aft to look down at the sparkling water, all ablaze now as it seemed to rush from both sides of the rudder, where in the daytime all would be white foam.
I had no duty to perform that night to keep me on deck; but still I lingered, thinking that perhaps the cabin would be terribly hot, as it had been on the previous night, only I dropped off to sleep so soon that the heat did not trouble me.
“And I shall have it all to myself to-night,” I thought, “for Walters will have to take his turn in the watch.”
At last, half envying him the task of passing a good deal of the night on deck, I took a look round. The saloon-lights were out, and there was no one there; the sailing-lights were up in their places, and the faint glow rose from about the binnacle, just faintly showing the steersman’s face. Away forward I could hear the low murmur of conversation where the watch were on duty, and now, for the first time, I yawned, and some one spoke from close behind me and made me start.
“Well,” he said, “if you are so drowsy as that, why don’t you go to your bunk?”
“Just going, sir,” I said, for it was the first mate, Mr Brymer; and now I hurried down, threw off my clothes, and in a very few minutes I was sound asleep.
I suppose it was the heat, for I don’t believe that it had anything to do with the coming danger, but at any rate I slept badly that night—an uneasy, troubled kind of sleep, such as I should have expected to have if some one was to come and call me about two bells.
It must have been about that time that I was lying more asleep than awake, but sufficiently conscious to spring up in my berth and say quite aloud—
“Yes; what is it?”
There was no reply, though I could have declared that some one called me. But though there was no reply, I could hear voices. Some one was giving orders in a sharp, angry voice; and directly after, I could hear a scuffling sound, followed by a savage curse uttered in a low voice, and then there was the sound of a fall.
Something was evidently wrong, and for a few moments I was sure that the captain had found out about the conversation which had taken place, and had now taken matters into his hands in no mild fashion. Mr Brymer was the last man I saw on deck, and without doubt that must be he.
I lay there, with the perspiration oozing out of every pore, and listened for the next sounds; but all was still for a few moments. Then there were evidently people running about on deck, and a chill of horror ran through me as I now noticed that something was wrong with the ship. For instead of rising and falling steadily as she glided onward, she was right down in the trough of the sea, and swaying and rolling in a way that was startling. Fully convinced now that we had gone on a rock or a sandbank—being ready to imagine anything in my excitement—I rolled out of my berth and began to hurry on some clothes.
I never dressed more quickly in my life, for as I hastily slipped on my things, there was the sharp report of a gun or pistol, and a loud crash as of a door being burst in. Then the hush and quiet was at an end; there was a piercing shriek, another shot, followed by the sounds of struggling, loud and angry voices, then cries for help; and I made for the deck as quickly as I could, to find all in darkness. But men were running here and there, a sharp voice was giving orders, and then I saw the flash of a pistol or gun. The report came, there was a low groan, and then all at once some one rose as it were out of the darkness and made a blow at me, for I heard the whish of a weapon.
But the blow was made in the dark, and had no effect; but whoever struck now made a dash at me, and I ducked down, leaped sidewise, and with my heart in my mouth ran right forward, with whoever it was in pursuit.
I felt that I knew who it was now as I ran. The captain really had gone mad, and as I ran and heard the steps behind me, fear lent me great speed. Other people had been shot or cut down, and something terrible was going on. So I ran for my life to take refuge with the crew in the forecastle; but as I reached it, there was struggling and fighting going on there, and I crossed the deck to run back aft on the other side, meaning to reach Mr Brymer’s cabin or Mr Frewen’s if I could.
For a moment I fancied that I had evaded my pursuer, but there was another dash made for me again out of the darkness, and I ran on.
“Look out there, you, sir,” cried a voice from behind me; “here comes one.”
This told me that there were enemies in front, and I was ready to dart anywhere to avoid whoever tried to stop me.
That there was danger I soon found, for struggling, and oaths, and curses saluted my ears again as I reached the ladder and ran up on to the poop-deck, just as a shout from near the wheel drove me back.
“Got him?” shouted some one.
“No; where is he?”
I was crouching now under the starboard bulwark, and feeling certain that in another minute I should be found, I passed my hand upward, searched about, and found that which I sought, the mizzen-shrouds. The next minute I had caught well hold with both hands, swung up my feet, and went on inboard hand over hand till I was twenty feet above the deck, clinging there in the darkness, and listening to the efforts made—evidently by three or four men—beneath to find out where I could be gone.