“Yes, fresh air physic. I want you to take it very coolly for the next few days, but to keep on deck always except in the hottest times. In another week you won’t know yourself.”
“Hah!” ejaculated the boy. “Then now, sir—don’t think me ungrateful, for nobody could be kinder to me than you and Poole here have shown yourselves since I have been aboard.”
“Thank you, my lad, for both of us,” said the skipper, smiling good-humouredly. “I am glad you give such ruffians as we are so good a character. But you were going to say something.”
“Yes, sir,” said the boy excitedly, and he cleared his voice, which had grown husky.
“Go on, then. You are beating about the bush as if you had some favour to ask. What is it?”
“I want,” cried Fitz excitedly, and his cheeks flushed and eyes flashed—“I want you, sir,” he repeated, “now that you say I’m better and fit to get about—”
“On deck,” said the skipper dryly.
“Oh yes, and anywhere as soon as this giddiness has passed off... I want you now, sir, to set me ashore.”
“Hah! Yes,” said the skipper slowly. “I knew we were coming to that.”
“Why, of course, sir. Think of what I must have suffered and felt.”