“Very, I believe; and Captain Berriman said he would have proper discipline in his ship.”
“Yes, of course. I should have liked to see the captain knock him down. Perhaps it will make him spiteful.”
I looked at him wonderingly, and he smiled.
“Well, why shouldn’t I?” he said. “One likes to see a few exciting scenes now and then. Life is so dull.”
He was holding on by the arms of the chair, for the ship rose and fell, and rolled a good deal in the short, choppy sea; but he seemed to like it, and as his sister stood with her hands resting on the back of the chair, balancing herself and yielding to the motion of the ship, her eyes brightened, and she gazed away over the foaming sea, where the sun had come through the clouds, and made the spray sparkle like diamonds as the waves curled over and broke.
They neither of them spoke to me, and I walked slowly away to see that the captain had raised his hand.
“You can spend a little time with the sick passenger, Dale,” he said; “I mean when he wants you. Poor fellow, I’m afraid he’s in a bad way.”
He walked back toward the group by the mizzen as he spoke, and then as we drew near he changed the conversation.
“Look here, Dale,” he said; “you’d better go down and pull your messmate out of his bunk by the hind leg. Time he was on deck now. And look here, go and see how that Mr Preddle is. He’s keeping below, too, when a touch of this brisk breeze would set him up. Go down, and tell him the fish are fighting—ah, fighting—that will be more like the truth. They’re sure to fight. That will bring him on deck.”
“Shall I, sir?”