“I’ve often wished it, uncle,” I said. “But perhaps we may pick up just such a fellow out yonder.”
“Such pieces of luck don’t happen twice to the same people. Hullo, here’s poor Doldrums. Well, my lad, in trouble again?”
The ship’s boy, a sallow, dirty-looking lad of about eighteen, but stunted and, dwarfed for his age, came shuffling by us, to follow the carpenter, and he held one hand to his eye and spoke in answer with his face half averted.
“Trouble again, sir?” said the poor fellow, half piteously, half in anger; “I aren’t never been out of it since we sailed.”
“What have you been doing? Here, let me look at your face.”
“Oh, never mind that, sir,” said the lad, shrinking.
“But I do mind,” said my uncle. “Let me see.”
Uncle Dick did not wait for the boy to take down his hand, but drew it away, to show that the eye was red and swollen up.
“Did the captain do that?” I said.
The lad nodded, and his forehead filled with lines.