Chapter Six.
On two sides.
Fitz Burnett slept on during the greatest part of that day and most of the next; each time that he woke up he seemed better, and ready for the food that he had missed for so long and which was now so carefully prepared for him.
Very little had been said; the skipper’s son attended upon him assiduously, and was ready to enter into conversation, but his advances were met so shortly and snappishly, that he soon contented himself with playing the nurse seriously, while the invalid frowned and kept his eyes fixed upon the sea through the open cabin-window, rarely glancing at his attendant at all.
It was on the fourth day after the lad had recovered his senses and learned the truth of his position, that Poole made a remark about this change in their passenger to his father, who had come into the cabin to find the midshipman fast asleep.
“Is it right, father, that he should sleep so much?” said the lad.
“Certainly. He’s getting on fast. Let him sleep as much as he can. His wound is growing together again as quickly as it can. Can’t you see how much better he is?”
“Well, I thought I could, dad,” was the reply; “but every now and then I think he’s getting worse.”