Among his duties was that of answering the Captain's bell, and once, when he returned from a visit to Tip, Mr. Rankin told him, with evident fear, that it had been nearly five minutes since he was summoned to the wheel-house.
While the steward was speaking, the bell rang again with an angry peal that told that the party at the other end was in anything but a pleasant mood. It did not take Tim many seconds to run to the wheel-house, and when he arrived there, breathless and in fear, Captain Pratt met him at the door.
"So the lesson I gave you this morning wasn't enough, eh?" cried the angry man, as he seized Tim by the collar and actually lifted him from his feet. "I'll teach you to attend to business, and not try to come any odds over me."
Captain Pratt had a stout piece of rope in one hand, and as he held Tim by the other, nearly choking him, he showered heavy blows upon the poor boy's back and legs, until his arm ached.
"Now see if you will remember that!" he cried, as he released his hold on Tim's collar, and the poor child rolled upon the deck almost helpless.
Tim had fallen because the hold on his neck had been so suddenly released, rather than on account of the beating; and when he struggled to his feet, smarting from the blows, the Captain said to him, "Now bring me a pitcher of ice-water, and see that you're back in five minutes, or you'll get the same dose over again."
Tim limped away, his back and legs feeling as though they were on fire, and each inch of skin ached and smarted as it never had done from the worst whipping Captain Babbige or Aunt Betsey had favored him with. He entered the cabin with eyes swollen from unshed tears, and sobs choking his breath, but with such a sense of injury in his heart that he made no other sign of suffering.
Mr. Rankin was too familiar with Captain Pratt's method of dealing with boys to be obliged to ask Tim any questions; but he said, as the boy got the water, "Try to keep a stiff upper lip, lad, and you'll come out all right."
Tim could not trust himself to speak, for he knew he should cry if he did; and he carried the water to the wheel-house, going directly from there to Tip.
The dog leaped up on him when his master came where he was, as if he wanted a frolic; but Tim said, as he threw himself on the deck beside him: "Don't, Tip—don't play now; I feel more like dyin'. You think it's awful hard to stay here; but it's twice as hard on me, 'cause the Captain whips me every chance he gets."