"Stop, let me finish. We are an officer short now, and if we do meet that friend Frank of yours, and he is worth an old ship biscuit, and up to the ropes, I'll give him a chance, just see if I don't. Don't thank me, I hate verbal thanks. Don't speak your thanks, live it."
"I'll live to please you, sir. Yes, I'll live my thanks."
"Well now, let us go below, and leave the mate to keep his watch. I want to hear you play a bit, I always think it cheers the men forward up to hear music aft. Down you go first."
Fred dived below and entered the well-lighted little saloon of the barque. Though not large, it was as snug and cosy as a lady's boudoir, and at the farther end of it stood an open piano.
And now that the light shines full in their faces, we can see both Fred himself and his kindly Captain Cawdor.
CHAPTER XVI.
DEAKIN AND CO. AND THE LOST BRIG "RESOLUTE."
It had just gone one bell in the first watch, and so was nearly time for the frugal supper, partaken of every night in the saloon of the San Salvador. The fact is, breakfast was served sharp at eight o'clock, dinner at one, and a high tea at six. The tea was really a kind of a sea dinner in itself, for the meat and biscuits were always put down, with soft tack (bread) if there was any. Therefore supper after this was a mere snack, say a box of sardines with pickled onions and biscuits, washed down with coffee or cocoa.
To-night the steward spread the banquet as soon as the captain and Fred came down.
"Where is Cassia-bud?"