“I suppose you are right,” said Sir John.
“Right? of course I am. Only give him time.”
“Where is he now?”
“Along with Bartlett,” said the captain.
“Yes, I can see him. They’re examining something over the bows. Found something fresh. Isn’t that a healthy sign? He was only a bit tired and bored just now. Look here, Meadows, you and I must not be too anxious, and keep on letting him see that we are watching him. Why, look at the other morning when he was just up from his sea-sickness. Do you think if I had begged him to eat that rasher of ham he would have touched it? Not he. Let him alone, and he’ll soon be coming to us.”
“Certainly that will be the best course. I should like to see though what he is doing now?”
“Better leave him alone. Sensitive chap like that, with a body like a little boy and a head like an old man, don’t want to feel that he is being led about by a nurse. But there, I must humour you, I suppose. Come away.”
The doctor set the example by rising, and they walked slowly forward, hearing Jack talking in an animated way as they drew nearer, and, as if in obedience to an order, one of the sailors trotted by them.
As they reached the port bows Jack turned round where he was leaning over the starboard side, as if to look for the man who had gone on some errand, and he caught sight of his father.
“Come and look here, father,” he cried. “Something so curious.”