“Oh, yes, there’s nothing wrong with his health. Bless you, a midshipman has nine lives like a cat, and can never come to much harm! This is what he told me, and very emphatic he was about it, that I was to take you under my special charge because he wasn’t with the force to look after you himself.”
“I’ll punch Charlie’s head directly I get back to the ship,” I said with a laugh; “he wants taking down a peg or two and no mistake!”
“I told him how badly you and Mr. Fitzgerald served me over that sponge and towel business,” said the gunner with a chuckle, “and I thought he’d make himself ill with laughing, for he’s not over-strong yet.”
“Well, it was enough to make a cat laugh to see you getting ‘cold pig,’ Mr. Triggs, so I’m not surprised that Charlie went into fits over it!”
“Ah, that’s just where you make the mistake, Mr. Darcy, and I can flap my wings and crow a bit. The fact of the matter is that Mr. Balfour laughed at the way I laid into you and Mr. Fitzgerald with the towel, not at your achievement with the sponge. He’s a sensible young gentleman is Mr. Balfour; I’ve always thought so.”
I was about to make some severe remark on my friend’s treachery, when Fitzgerald came running up.
“The gunnery lieutenant wants you, Mr. Triggs,” he said.
The gunner hurried off.
“Would you like to go scouting, Darcy?” asked my brother-middy.
“Of course I should, old chap; why do you ask?”