“Oh yes, lots of it; but I have been having a holiday since you’ve been on board. So have you. It must be quite a change after your busy life on board a gunboat, drilling and signalling, and all that sort of thing.”
Fitz was hearing him speak, but listening intently all the time, so that he gave an eager start and exclaimed—
“Here’s your father coming now.”
For steps were plainly heard on the companion-ladder, and the next minute the door was thrust open, and the bluff-looking skipper entered the cabin.
“Morning, sir,” he cried. “How are we this morning? Oh, it doesn’t want any telling. You are getting on grandly. Did Poole tell you I wanted you to come up on deck this afternoon?”
“Yes, sir; thank you. I feel a deal better now, only my legs are very weak when I try to stand up holding on by my berth.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said the skipper, sitting down by the boy’s head and watching him keenly. “You are weak, of course, but it’s more imaginary than real. Any one who lays up for a week or two would feel weak when he got out of bed.”
“But my head swims so, sir.”
“Exactly. That’s only another sign. You are eating well now, and getting quite yourself. But I am going to prescribe you another dose.”
“Physic?” said Fitz, with a look of disgust.