“No, sir.”
“There, now walk across the deck.”
“If I’m able to walk, sir, shall I have to be dipped?”
“Walk away, and go below to your mess, you idle, shamming scoundrel,” cried the doctor.
Private Sim opened his lips to speak, but the look he received was too much for him, and he slowly walked off, trying hard to appear ill-used, till he reached the companion ladder, down which he shuffled to the intense delight of the men.
There was no land in sight, but the sea was glorious in the brilliant sunshine—so clear and blue that the darting fish could be seen far below; and before long, Bob Roberts had borrowed a fishing-line from Dick, the old sailor, baited the hooks, and was trailing it behind the vessel, in the hope of catching enough fish for a dinner for his mess.
At first his sport was not very good; but after a time he captured a large glistening fish, evidently, from its silvery skin, belonging to the mackerel family; and this so excited Ensign Long, who had been looking on rather contemptuously, that he borrowed a line of the boatswain, and was also soon at work fishing.
The lads had such good sport that the officers looked on quite amused, and the ladies under the awning asked from time to time to be shown the glistening captives that had been taken.
Soon after the doctor joined the party, to discourse learnedly about the various fishes, which he classified as he pointed out their peculiarities, assuring his fair hearers that far more beautiful specimens might yet be taken.
Rachel Linton, a fair, very intelligent looking girl, was much interested in the doctor’s descriptions, as was also her cousin, Mary Sinclair, a dark, handsome, but delicate, brunette, of nineteen, full of questions, which the doctor took great delight in answering.