“No, my lad,” said the mate, holding out his rough hand. “I don’t believe anybody felt like that,” and he gripped the boy’s hand firmly. “But I say, between ourselves, I didn’t mean to speak. It’s made me feel a little soft like, and I shouldn’t like anybody to know what I said.”
“You may trust me, Mr Burgess,” said the lad warmly.
“I do, my lad; I do, for I know what a gentleman you are. But to nobody, please, not even to young Poole.”
The rough mate nodded his satisfaction as he met the middy’s eyes, and somehow from that minute it seemed to Fitz that they had become great friends.
“Now, that’s what I call the prettiest view we’ve seen of that gunboat yet, Mr Burnett, sir,” said the carpenter a short time later, as the lad strolled up to where he was leaning over the bulwarks shading his eyes from the sun. “I don’t profess to be a artist, sir; nighest I ever come to making a picter was putting a frame round it and a bit of glass in front, as I kep’ in tight with brads. But I’ve seen a deal of natur’ in my time, hot and cold, and I say that’s the prettiest bit of a sea-view I ever set eyes on. She’s a fine-built boat—nice shape. Looks like about half-way between a flat-iron and one of them as the laundresses use with a red-hot thing in their insides. But it ain’t only her shape as takes my fancy. It’s her position, and that’s one that everybody on board must admire, as she lies there nice and distant with the coast behind, sea in front, and a lovely bit of foam and breakers both sides. Ah! she makes a lovely pictur’. She don’t want no frame, and the beauty of her is that she’s one of them what they used to call dissolving views. You see, we shan’t see her no more, and don’t want to, and that’s the beauty of it.”
“Yes, you’re right, Chips,” said Poole, laughing. “We’ve seen rather too much of her as it is. But you are a bit wrong. I dare say we shall see her again. Don Ramon will be for trying to get her off the rocks when he hears how she lies. Why, Chips, that’s in your way. What a job it would be for you!”
“Job for me, sir?” said the man, staring.
“Yes. That gunboat and her fittings must have cost a tremendous sum of money. It would be the making of you if you could get her off.”
The carpenter stared, and then gave his thigh a slap which sounded like the crack of a revolver.
“Yuss!” he cried. “I never thought of that. My word, shouldn’t I like the job!”