“That’s good,” he whispered. “It was a nasty shock for the poor fellow, but there’s nothing for me to do, my lad. A few hours’ sleep will quite set him right. I like this, though, Murray,” he continued, laying his hand upon the lad’s shoulder and giving it a friendly grip. “You boys are thoughtless young dogs sometimes, but this sort of thing shows that you have got the right stuff in you—the right feeling for one another.”
“Oh, I say, doctor, don’t!” whispered Murray.
“Not going to, much,” said the gentleman addressed. “I’m a rough fellow sometimes, I know, but I notice a deal, and I like to see a bit of feeling shown at the right moment. You don’t know how it pleases me when one of our foremast fellows has been laid aside, and I see that a messmate has sneaked down to keep him company, and take care that he is not short of tobacco to chew—Hang him for trying to poison a man who would be far better without it!—Yes, looks as guilty as can be, and quite shamefaced at having been caught playing the nurse. It shows that the dog has got the true man in him, Murray, and though I don’t let them see that I notice anything I like it more than you think. There, Roberts is all right,” said the doctor gruffly, “but don’t stop here breathing up the cool air I want for my patient. Come on deck, my lad; come on deck.”
Chapter Twenty One.
“Niggah, Sah.”
A month passed swiftly away, during which the Seafowl sighted and chased vessel after vessel, each of which had been forced to lie to in response to a shot fired across her bows, but only with a disappointing result—one which sent the captain into a temper which made him dangerous to approach for a full half-hour after the strangers’ papers had been examined, to prove that she had nothing whatever to do with the slave-trade.
Then the captain would calm down, and something like the following would take place:
“Did I speak rather sharply to you when the boat returned, Mr Anderson?”