CHAPTER NINE.
BOB HOWLETT AS NURSE.
"Oh, Mr Whitney, sir, don't say he's dead."
"Wasn't going to, my lad."
Mark heard those words spoken by familiar voices, but why or about whomhe could not tell. All he knew was that he was aboard ship, with thewarm air coming in through the port, and the water was splashing andslapping against the side.
Then there was a good deal of buzzing conversation carried on, and thevoices all sounded familiar still, but they grew more distant, and nextall was dark and comfortable, and Mark felt as if he were very tired andthoroughly enjoying a good sleep.
Then, unknown to him, time went on, and he opened his eyes again, andlay and listened to some one making a noise--that is to say, the personwho made it believed that he was singing, but Mark Vandean did notbelieve anything of the kind, and lay quite still, and laughed gently asfrom close to his head there came in a low, harsh, croaking buzz, withthe faintest suggestion of a tune--
"And we jolly sailor boys were up, up aloft, And the landlubbers lying down below, below, below, And the landlubbers lying down below."
Then there was a pause, and the scratching of a pen as if some one werewriting. The noise began again, and Mark, as he lay in his cot,chuckled; but though he did not know it, his silent laugh was in afeeble way.
At last he spoke. "What's the matter, young 'un?"
There was a quick movement, and the light was shut out by Bob Howlett,who rushed to his side and caught him by the shoulders.
"Matter? There's nothing the matter now, old chap. Hip--hip--hip--hurray! You are getting better, then?"
"Better? Have I been ill?"
"Ill? Oh, I suppose you can't call it being ill, because it wasn'tHumpty Dums, or Winkey Wanks, or Grim Fever; but I thought you weregoing to die, old chap, or do some other mean and shabby thing. I say,how do you feel?"
"All right, only I thought you had something the matter with you."
"Me? Why?"
"You were groaning so when I woke up."
"Groaning? Why, I was singing," cried Bob, indignantly.
"Oh, were you? I shouldn't have known if you hadn't told me. But, Isay, I wouldn't sing any more if I were you, Bob. It isn't in yourway."
"Get out! Sing as well as you can. There, don't lie shamming beingsick any more, because you are quite well thankye, or you wouldn't beginchaffing."
"But have I been ill? Why, my voice sounds queer, doesn't it?"
"Queer? It sounds just like a penny whistle, while mine's as solid as abig trombone."
"What?"
"Oh, never mind about that, old chap. We'll soon feed you up, oldWhitney and I. Make you strong as a horse again. Van, old cockalorum,I am glad."
And to show his delight, Bob Howlett executed a kind of triumphal dance,ending with a stamp.
"Don't be an idiot, Bob," said Mark, feebly. "Come close here. I wantto know what's been the matter. Has there been a fight, and was Iwounded?"
"No!" cried Bob. "Why, what an old stuffy head you are. Don't youunderstand? Can't you recollect?"
"Recollect what?"
"The going off in the first cutter with poor old Russell to pick up thatnigger?"
"No," said Mark, dreamily. "I don't recollect any--Yes I do, and wefound him, and--I say, Bob, what's wrong with my head? I can't thinkproperly."
"Won't draw. Chimney wants sweeping, old chap. But don't you fidgetabout that," cried Bob, laying a hand upon his companion's forehead, andthen feeling his pulse with much professional correctness. "Temperaturenormal, sir; pulse down to one. We must exhibit tonics, sir; sulph quinpulv rhei; liquor diachylon. Great improvement, my dear sir. Allow meyour tongue."
"Don't be a fool, Bob. Tell me, there's a good chap."
"Ah! I remember now," cried Mark, excitedly. "Tom Fillot let the poorfellow slide overboard, and Mr Russell and the men were all down withthe heat, and then--Yes, I recollect now; I went to sleep."
"Yes, you did, old chap," said Bob Howlett, holding his messmate's thinhand in his; "and it seemed such a sound sleep when we picked you upthat I began to think you wouldn't wake again."
"But do pray tell me," cried Mark, excitedly. "How was it? We were alldying of hunger and thirst in the boat. Stop, how is Mr Russell?"
"Bad. Can't rustle a bit; but he's coming round."
"And Dance, and Tom Fillot, and the others?"
"Tom Fillot looks cranky, but there isn't much the matter with him.Coxswain Dance couldn't jig to save his life. T'others are blue mouldy,and old Whitney talks about 'em as if he was using bricks and mortar.He says he shall build 'em up."
"But do pray tell me all about it, Bob," said Mark, querulously.
"I say, don't cry about it, or I won't tell you anything."
"I won't say a word, only I am so impatient to know."
"Want to know it all--from the very beginning?"
"Of course. Don't tease me, Bob, now I'm so _weak_."
"Oh, won't I. Got you down flat, old chap. Can't bounce and bully menow. Give me much of your nonsense, I'll punch your old head. Now,then, where'll you have it?"
Bob struck an attitude, and began to square at his messmate playfully;but he sat down again directly.
"Well, I'll let you off this time, and take pity on you as you're such acripple. Ahem! All in to begin?"
Mark looked at him piteously, and Bob laid his hand upon his arm.
"All right, old chap," he said, huskily; "I won't tease you. I feel sojolly to see you open your eyes again, that it made me play the fool."
Bob choked a little, and said it was because he felt dry. A possiblething, but his eyes looked wet. Then he went on hastily--"Well, it waslike this, old chap; as soon as we'd dropped you first cutters, wecracked on after the schooner again as hard as we could go, withMaitland and old Staples, one on each side of the deck, barking andsnapping at the lads because we couldn't get more out of the old girl.We went pretty fast, though; and knowing that the Yank would try it onagain, old Ramsey had to pipe himself and the crew ready for the secondcutter. Sure enough, there was the same game tried again, and thesecond cutter was dropped, with old Ram in command, and we left him,too, to pick up the black thrown overboard, while we raced on again,getting close enough to send shot after shot through the schooner'srigging; but she seemed to be a Flying Dutchman sort of a craft, for wenever once hit a spar."
"But you've taken her, Bob?"
"You just lie still and hold your tongue, will you? If you can tell thestory better than I can, you don't want me to speak."
"I'll be patient and not say a word," said Mark, humbly.
"Hit a spar," continued Bob; "and there is no mistake about the way thatYankee skipper can sail his craft, for he dodged and turned, and keptthrowing us off in the most cunning way, trying to show us a clean pairof heels, and over and over again he distanced us. But Maitland and oldStaples grew madder and madder, trying all they knew to crowd on sailtill once more we got near, and then down went another of the poorblacks. Old Staples regularly jumped off the deck in his rage, for wewere obliged to drop the captain's gig this time to pick up the poorwretch--leastwise, try to, for they didn't get him, and as we couldn'tspare any more hands we had to wait for the gig to come aboard again.
"That gave old Stars and Stripes a chance to get ever so far-away, and Itell you it wasn't safe to go near the skipper. Ah! we may well callhim that. He made some of 'em skip, I can tell you, that day.
"`I'll sink her,' I heard him say, `I'll sink her,' and I expected tohear him order the guns to be depressed next time we got near enough fora shot."
"But he didn't do that," said Mark excitedly.
"Lie down, sir! Quiet, will you?" cried Bob fiercely. "How am I toflow on if you keep stopping me?"
"Go on, please," said Mark.
"Of course I didn't let him fire," continued Bob, importantly. "Howcould I go plunging round-shot into the miserable schooner and kill noend of nigg
ers? Wasn't to be thought about. So we crowded on againtill they dropped another black overboard, and we had to heave to andpick him up, and then another and another till we had got four. Theother two were either hurt, I think, or so weak that they couldn't swim,and the poor fellows went down before our lads could get to them."
"How horrible!"
"Yes; it'll be pretty horrible for Yankee Doodle if old Maitland evergets his paw on him."
"If ever--" began Mark.
"Will you lie down?" cried Bob.
"Well, I am lying down," replied Mark. "I don't feel as if I could situp."
"No, nor you won't till Whitney and I have bricked and mortared youwell."
"Pray, pray go on, and tell me about capturing the schooner."
"You won't let me with your interruptions," cried Bob. "It's always theway with you fellows when you're getting better. You are right downnasty."
"Go on, Bob."
"Well, on we went after my gentleman, getting close enough to make hissails ragged, and then being dodged about in every direction as he wentthrough all sorts of manoeuvres to escape. Now we were hove to, to pickup some of his cargo, now in full chase again, till I got sick of it bydaylight, and every one else too, and the men so savage that they wouldhave liked to pour in a broadside if it hadn't been for the poor fellowsunder hatches. At last it was morning, and the sun up, with theschooner a good mile away, and then came the worst of it."
"The worst of it?"
"Ay, ay, sir! as we say at sea. No sooner was the sun well up than thesails began to shiver.
"`Wind's failing, sir,' says old Staples.
"`Bah! nonsense!' says the skipper, and there came a hot puff and filledthe sails again, making us careen over. `There, Mr Staples,' says theskipper, `what do you think of that?'
"`Last puff, sir, for the day,' says Staples.
"`Nonsense we shall have her now,' says the skipper; and then he crossedjust in front of me and gave a big stamp, for the sails flopped down allat once, and there we were gliding slowly on for a bit, and thensettling on an even keel, while a mile away there was the schooner witha light breeze, going along as easily as could be, and if the Yankeecaptain didn't have the cheek directly after to load a little swivel gunhe had on board, and fire at us over the stern, as if he were laughingat us.
"Then I saw Maitland give old Staples such a savage look, and go downinto his cabin."
"Well?" said Mark.
"Oh no, it wasn't, old chap; it was ill. There we were regularlybecalmed, and if the wind didn't keep along astern of the schooner andcarry her right away, till she was hull down, and then by degrees welost sight of her sails, and the game was up."
"Then you didn't take her?" cried Mark.
"Take her? How could we take her when we were becalmed?"
"And the Yankee skipper got right away?"
"Right away, a robber; and took the prize-money we had so honestlyearned along with him. All that trouble for nothing; and what wasworse, we couldn't come in search of you, for it fell about the deadestcalm I ever saw in all my experience at sea, and that isn't saying much,is it, Van?"
"Oh!" ejaculated Mark, "how horrible! You ought to have caught her,Bob."
"That's right jump on me just as if I didn't do my best."
"Go on now, and tell me the rest," said Mark sadly. "Not that it is ofmuch consequence. I know you picked us up."
"Oh, well, I may as well tell you, though, as you say, it was of noconsequence whatever. Government could have afforded a new first andsecond cutter and tackle; men are plentiful; and as to officers, there'sany number in stock."
"Don't chaff, Bob. Tell me, there's a good chap. You came on then insearch of us as soon as you knew that you couldn't catch the schooner."
"No, we didn't. How could we without a breath of wind? All we did wasto lie there and roast and roll on the big swell, with Maitland savageat losing the schooner, and fidgeting to death about the two absentboats. I heard him talking to Staples.
"`A great error, Staples,' he said. `I had no business to leave thepoor fellows behind without any provisions in case of accident, and Iought to have known better.'
"All that day we had the horizon swept with glasses in the hope ofseeing you fellows come rowing after us, but it was getting close tonight before the man at the masthead shouted that a boat was in sight,and I went up aloft to make out if it was you. But it wasn't, old chap.It was Ramsey with the second cutter, and the poor chaps' faces wereawful as they were hauled up to the davits. They were so hoarse thatthey couldn't speak, and I felt queer to see their wild-eyed look andthe rush they made for the water that was put ready for them.
"Of course they had seen nothing of you, and that night everybody beganto look blank and talk in whispers, while I had something for supper,Van, which didn't agree with me, and I never got a wink of sleep allnight.
"Next day was calm as ever, and we were slowly rolling on the swell; thehammock rails were as hot as the bell, and the pitch was oozing outeverywhere. I quite spoilt a pair of hind leg sleeves with the tar,going up to the masthead. My word, they were gummy."
"What had you been doing? Who mast-headed you?" asked Mark.
"Doing? Nothing. Nobody mast-headed me, only myself."
"What for?"
"Well, you are a lively sort of a chap to have for a messmate, Van.That's gratitude, that is, for going up to look after you with theglass. Now if it had been my case I should have said:--`Mark Vandean,my most attached friend, I regret extremely that in your anxiety to gaintidings of me and my boat, you should have brought the cloth of yoursit-downs into contact with the inspissated juice of the Norwegian fir,to their destruction and conversion into sticking-plaister. My tailorsare Burns and Screw, Cork Street, Bond Street, London. Pray allow me topresent you with a new pair.'"
"Oh, Bob, what a tongue you have!"
"Lovely. But I say--inspissated juice is good, isn't it?"
"Do go on telling me, Bob. I'm too weak to stand banter. So you wentup to the masthead to look for me, old chap?"
"I did, my son, and pretty well lived up there--I mean died--it was sohot. But there was nothing to see eastward but the dim hazy sea andsky, though I watched for days and days."
"Days and days?" said Mark, wonderingly.
"Well, I'm not quite sure about how long it was, for the sun made me sogiddy. I had to lash myself to the mast, or I should have taken a diveoverboard; and my head grew muddly. But it was an awful long time. Myeye! how the men whistled!"
"For wind?"
"Yes; and the more they whistled the more it didn't come. Old Maitlandwas in a taking, and it wasn't safe to speak to Staples. I say, Van,old chap, he came right up to the cross-trees himself and told me Ididn't know how to use a spy-glass. He said the boat with you fellowsin lay just due east, and that he could make it out directly."
"And did he?"
"No; he just didn't; and then, after trying for half an hour, he saidmine was a wretchedly poor weak glass, and came down again. You see,the skipper and old Staples were mad about losing the schooner, and justwild about leaving the boat behind and going on so far before comingback to pick you up.
"Of course, they couldn't tell that the wind would drop so suddenly,"said Mark. "Well, you caught sight of us at last?"
"Look here, friend of my boyhood, do you want to finish this authenticnarrative?"
"No, I don't. Go on."
"Then hold your tongue. I do like that, you saying what a tongue I'vegot. Spikes and spun yarn! It's about nothing to yours. There, Iwon't keep you longer in suspense, as my old aunt used to say. Afterthe crew had whistled the air quite full, it all condensed and turnedinto a breeze--on the third evening, I think it was, and I mast-headedmyself again, and there was another man sent up to the fore-masthead."
"I beg your pardon," said Mark, with a feeble smile upon his thin face.
"I said another man was sent up to look-out. I'm afraid that theexposure and fasting have a
ffected your hearing a little, my son. Butto go back to our muttons, as the French say. The breeze came on justright from the south-east, and we soon had plenty of sail on, and madesome good big tacks; but it came on dark without our having got a squintof you; and that night once more my supper spoilt my rest, and every oneelse's disagreed with him. For the crew were on deck all night, walkingabout uncomfortable, and the worst of it was old Whitney's prescriptionsdidn't do any one a bit of good."
"Of course," said Mark, thoughtfully. "It must have been a terribletime of anxiety for the officers."
"Oh, I don't know," said Bob, coolly. "It was a nuisance, for thatfirst cutter was always considered our fastest boat. Well, to proceed.Next day, when the sun was hot enough to fry salt junk, someone caughtsight of the boat lying like a speck on the glittering water."
"Who did?" cried Mark, eagerly.
"Who did?" replied Bob, thoughtfully. "Let me see. I half--Dear menow, who--How strange! It must have been somebody, because the ship'shead was altered, and--Now how curious it is that I can't think who itwas sighted the boat!"
"I know," said Mark. "You did, Bob."
"Oh, I say, doctor!"
"Did I?" said that young gentleman, scratching his head. "Well, now yousay so, I think it was Robert Howlett, Esquire, with the spy-glass oldStaples abused so, and a pretty row there was went on below on deck.The chaps were half mad, and were dancing about the planks, and allbubbling over with excitement, as they tried to get a peep at you. Andwhen--oh, my!--we did at last come up to you, a nice pretty respectablelot you looked, lying about in the boat, with no more discipline thanyou'd see in a shoal of seals on a rock. You looked as if you had allbeen pitched in anyhow, and--_gug_!"
"Why, Bob! what's the matter, old chap?"
Mark turned to gaze on the convulsed face, and just obtained one glancebefore it was turned away. For Bob's voice had suddenly changed fromits light, half-cynical, playful tone. There was a sudden choking as ifsomething had come in his throat; and as Mark read his feelingsthoroughly stole a thin, feeble hand into his, and whispered softly,"Oh, Bob, old chap!" the face was turned sharply back at him, and itsowner burst out in a half-whimpering, half-angry way:
"Well, so would you if you'd seen it. Even iron Staples pretty nearlybroke down. It was just horrid. Didn't seem to be a bit of life in anyone of you but Tom Fillot, and he couldn't have cut a joke to save hislife. As for you, I wouldn't have given a penny more for you than theworth of your uniform, and that was all shrunk. You looked--"
"How will he look to-morrow, Mr Howlett?" cried a sharp voice, that ofthe doctor. "So this is the way you keep watch over a patient, is it,sir? He was getting better, and now my work's all undone again. Iexpect you've killed him."
"Silence!" cried that gentleman, feeling Mark's pulse. "Yes, of course.Fever greatly increased. Hush, not a word, Vandean. Lie perfectlystill. I ought to have been told that you had fully recovered yourconsciousness. Now, Mr Howlett, you had better be off."
"No, sir; don't send me away. I'll be so careful in future."
"I can't trust you, my lad."
"You may indeed now, sir. It was all with being so glad that poorVandean's better."
"Glad! Why, you looked sorry. There, then, if you promise to be veryquiet, you may stay. Vandean, he must not talk to you, and you musthardly say a word. I'll go and get you a little draught."
The doctor left the midshipman's quarters, and as he departed Bob made agesture suggestive of kicking him before returning to his seat besidehis messmate.
"Tell me, Bob," whispered Mark.
"No; mustn't speak."
"Only this. Did everyone--was everyone--"
Mark stopped short.
"You're not to talk while you're so weak. Now then, what do you want toknow? Did any one die?"
"Yes."
Bob nodded his head, and a pang shot through Mark as he thought of thehandsome young lieutenant, and the frank, manly fellows who had formedtheir crew.
He closed his eyes, and a feeling of weak misery choked his utterance.He would have given anything for the power to question his companion,and learn for certain who were living of the party; for the idea had inhis weakness become now a certainty, that though he had seemed to hearthat Mr Russell was recovering, he it was who had died.
At last the power to think returned, and he turned his wan, pain-drawnface to Bob.
"Tell me," he whispered.
"No, sir, nothing," cried the doctor. "Here, I have brought you thelittle draught myself, so as to see that it is taken properly. I don'tknow why I should have so much trouble over a pack of lads who are moreworry than they are worth. Why, bless my heart, Mr Vandean, you aregoing backward. Here, Mr Howlett, go to my quarters and send my fellowhere."
Black Bar Page 9