“What are you about, boy?” he said; and Poole explained.
“Well, I don’t know. I meant for him to come up this afternoon, but I thought that it was all over after that upset. How does he seem now?”
“Just as if he were going to make the best of it, father.”
“Then bring him up.”
A minute later the tackle and bait were lying on the deck beside the chair, and Poole hurried down to the cabin to help his patient finish dressing, which task was barely completed when there was a tap at the door and the Camel appeared, bearing his morning “dose,” as he termed it.
This was treated as a hindrance, but proved to be a valuable fillip after what the boy had gone through, and the preparation for that which was to come, so that, with the exception of once feeling a little faint, Fitz managed to reach the deck, leaning heavily upon his companion; but not unnoticed, for the mate caught sight of him from where he was on the look-out forward, and hurried up to take the other arm.
“Morning, Mr Burnett,” he said eagerly. “Come, this is fine! Coming to sit in the air a bit? Oh, we shall soon have you all right now.”
The boy flushed and looked pleased at the kindly way in which he was received, and as he reached the chair there was another welcome for him from the hand at the wheel, who had the look of an old man-of-war’s man, and gave him the regular salute due to an officer.
“Feel all right?” said the mate.
“Yes, much better than I thought.”