Phil was not afraid, for he could not see the danger, and he laughed and liked to run up and down from the powder magazine to the main deck, because the big bluff men always laughed and said pleasant things to him. He was not afraid either on that day when Jack Jeens looked very serious and sponged his face for him over a bucket of water.
“Why, you’re as black as a sweep with the powder,” said Jack. “I say, didn’t you feel frightened when the guns roared?”
“No,” said Phil; “I only felt as if I should like to put my fingers in my ears. That gun did make a noise.”
Just at that moment a little serious-looking officer in uniform, with only one eye and one arm, stopped short, took off his cocked hat, and after putting it on again, laid the telescope he carried upon Phil’s shoulder.
“Why, you’re the little fellow they call Phil, arn’t you?” he said.
Phil nodded shortly.
“You’re the little powder monkey, they tell me.”
“Yes,” said Phil, looking at the little man wonderingly.
“And you’ve been bravely nursing the boy who broke his leg, eh?”