“I think you will find your boy here, sir.”
It was Mr. John Wirt, who, with the aid of a friendly deck hand, was guiding a pale, tottering, very sick Brother Bart to Dan’s side.
“Who wants me?” asked the half-wakened Dan, springing to his feet.
“Dan Dolan! Ye young rapscallion!” burst out Brother Bart, almost sobbing in his relief. “It’s down at the bottom of the black sea I thought ye were. I’ve been tramping this boat, with this good man holding me up (for I’m too sick to stand), this half hour. Down wid ye now below stairs with the rest, where I can keep an eye on ye. Come down, I say!”
IX.—Obeying Orders.
“Down below!” the words struck harshly on Dan’s ear for good old Brother Bart was more used to obedience than command, and he was sick and shaken and doing his guardian duty under sore stress and strain to-night.
“Go below! What for?” asked Dan, shortly. “I’m all right up here, Brother Bart. I can’t stand being packed in downstairs.”
“Stand it or not, I’ll not have ye up here,” said Brother Bart, resolutely. “Down with ye, Dan Dolan! Ye were put under my orders, and ye’ll have to mind my words.”
“Not when it means being sick as a dog all night,” answered Dan, rebelliously. “I tell you I can’t stand it down in that stuffy place below, and I won’t, I am going to stay up here.”
“And is that the way ye talk?” said Brother Bart, who had a spirit of his own. “And it’s only what I might look for, ye graceless young reprobate! God knows it was sore against my will that I brought ye with me, Dan Dolan; for I knew ye’d be a sore trial first to last. But I had to obey them that are above me. Stay, then, if you will against my word; for it’s all I have to hold ye, since ye are beyant any rule or law.—We’ll go back, my man,” continued Brother Bart to the burly deck hand who had been supporting his swaying form. “Help me to get down to my bed, in God’s name; for I am that sick I can scarcely see.”