“’Ello! Awake, me ’earty! Blow me, but you’ve jest slept the clock right round! What time o’ day is it? Nine o’clock, or thereabouts. ’Taint no use a givin’ it to yer in bells, ’cos you ain’t no sailor. You’ve slept the clock round, Mr Stapleton, and you’ve laid there since yesterday mornin’, a-sleepin’ like a infant. ’Twasn’t no use a-tryin’ to stir yer up, though the skipper—the Commodore that is—did ’ave a try. ’E’s jest jumpin’ to get yer news about these darkies. But yer wouldn’t stir. Yer jest kind er growl, and then yer was off agin. Swop me, but yer must ’ave been tired!”
“I was—dead beat,” agreed Dick, looking out from the hammock, and noticing that he was aboard the war vessel, and still lying under an awning. Indeed, at first he could recollect nothing, not even the fight with the Ashantis, to such a point had exhaustion carried him. And now, when he stirred and opened his eyes, it was to see a burly sailor, a British Jack tar, staring at him with a huge smile on his good-humoured face.
“Thet’s jest what the skipper says. He sees it ain’t no use a botherin’ yer, and so ’e jest leaves yer to it. ‘Put a nurse on him,’ he calls out to the chief. ‘See as ’e’s taken care of.’ And so ’ere I am, actin’ kind of nurse. ’Ow do yer feel, Mr Stapleton, sir?”
“Hungry! My word, I am hungry. You say I’ve slept the clock round. Then there’s no wonder that I want something. How’s the launch?”
“Safe and sound, sir, and the gold, too. Swop me, but where did it all come from? You must ’ave been busy to dig all that. But you’re ’ungry. I’ll send down to the gunroom. Officers is ’aving their breakfast, and there’ll be a peck for you.”
He was an amusing fellow, this rough salt, and a capital nurse he had made. He went to the rail of the upper deck, and sang out to the sergeant of the guard, a marine, whose man paced the beat below.
“Mr Stapleton’s compliments,” he called out. “He’s awake and feels mighty hungry.”
Dick heard the sergeant turn away, and then crawled from his hammock. Only then did he look at his clothing and his hands, and he was horrified, for he was still the grimy object he had been when, twenty-four hours before, he had come aboard the vessel. He was stiff and sore all over. He limped to the rails, and looked down on to the lower deck. Scores of marines and sailors were tumbling up, chattering and calling to one another, and amongst them was Johnnie, as lively as a sand-boy, and quite at home with all the crew. Indeed, he was in a small way a hero, and had made the most of his wakeful hours, yarning to the tars. Dick nodded down to him, and returned the salutes of the men as they touched their caps to him. Then he turned red under the grime, for a lusty fellow jumped to the railings and seized his cap.
“Three cheers for Mr Stapleton, the gentleman what’s jest come down the Pra all alone,” he cried. “Three of them, boys, and heartily!”
“Silence, please. Higgens, direct Mr Stapleton to the spare cabin and see to him. Thank you, lads, we like to see a plucky act recognised.”