“I am afraid I should fare badly,” thought our hero, “if I depended upon Clinton to stand by me. He isn’t of the stuff they make heroes of.”
Twenty-four hours passed before Captain Hill reappeared on deck. Meanwhile Harry had received congratulations from all the passengers on his display of pluck, and from some of the sailors besides. In fact, if he had not been a sensible boy, he might have been in danger of being spoiled by praise. But he answered, very modestly, that he had only acted from impulse, actuated by a desire to save Jack, and had not had time to count the consequences.
“I’ll stand by you, my lad,” said Hirman Stubbs. “The captain may try to do you wrong, but he will have somebody else to reckon with—I won’t see you hurt.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stubbs,” said Harry, heartily. “I know the value of your help already. Mr. Clinton also is willing to stand by me, though he says he don’t want to get into a fight with the captain.”
“Clinton! That spindle-legged dude!” said Stubbs, exploding with laughter. “My! he couldn’t scare a fly.”
Harry laughed, too. He could not help doing so.
“He seems a good fellow, though not exactly a hero,” he said. “I am glad to have his good will.”
“He is more of a tailor’s dummy than a man,” said Stubbs. “I always want to laugh when I look at him. Hist! there’s the captain.”
Harry turned quickly toward the companionway, and saw Captain Hill set foot on the deck. A glance satisfied him that the captain was sober.