“No, sir.”
“Where’s Mr Burgess?”
“Down below, sir. I’m afraid he’s got the fever too.”
“Tut-tut-tut!” ejaculated the skipper. “There, I needn’t ask any questions. I have heard and seen enough. Mr Burnett, come here. No? Well, stay where you are. My good lad, have you been too much in the sun, to begin playing such a silly prank as this? There, no more nonsense!” he added sternly, and with his voice gathering in force. “It is evident to me that you don’t know what stuff my men are made of. But I’m too weak to stand talking here. Come and lend me a hand, Poole. You, my young filibuster, had better come below with me, where you can talk the matter over like a man. Ha, ha, ha!” he added, with a peculiar laugh. “There, I’m not angry with you, my boy. I must say I admire your pluck; but you must see how absurd all this is!”
The midshipman’s hands had dropped to his sides, and a strange, hopeless, bitterly despondent look made his face display so many incipient wrinkles, the germs, so to speak, of those which in manhood would some day mark his frank young features.
“It’s all over,” he groaned to himself; “they are all laughing at me. I wish I were overboard! What an idiot I have been!”
The laugh was there all ready in the eyes of the crew, and ready to burst out in a roar, as, thrusting the revolver into his breast, Poole ran to his father’s side, and steadied him as he went back into the cabin; but not a sound was heard till the way was quite clear and Fitz stood alone looking wildly about him like some hunted animal seeking a place of refuge where he might hide. But the lad’s choice was limited to the cook’s galley, the cable-tier, and the forecastle-hatch, none of which would do.
There were only two courses open, he felt, and one was to end his troubles by going overboard, the other to surrender like a man, obeying the skipper’s orders and following him below—anywhere to be out of sight of the jeering crew, whose remarks and mirthful shouts he momentarily expected to hear buzzing about his devoted head. And hence it was that as soon as the companion-hatch was clear he drew himself up to his full height—it did not take much doing, for it is very hard work for a boy to look like a man—and gazing straight before him, walked haughtily to the cabin-hatch and disappeared.
The men seemed to have been holding their breath; their faces relaxed into smiles and grins, and the carpenter exclaimed—
“Chips and shavings! Bantams aren’t—”