Fitz the Filibuster Part 6

But that coffee was newly roasted, and though they were far at sea, the fresh bread-cakes were nice and warm, and the b.u.t.ter not in the slightest degree too salt. Fitz had been long without any food to signify, returning health was giving him the first instalments of a ravenous appet.i.te, and somehow it seems to be one of Nature's rules that _one_ fasting has his temper all on edge, while when he is satisfied it does not take much to make him smile.

So it was that before the breakfast was over, Fitz Burnett had forgotten his mental vow. Curiosity got the better of him.

"How far are we from land?" he said.

"The nearest?"

Fitz nodded.

"Oh, about eight hundred miles."

"And where's that? Somewhere south?"

"No, north by east."

"Do you mean it?"

It was Poole's turn now to nod.

The young midshipman sank back aghast, trying to mentally fill up the blank between that night off the dark waters near Liverpool, and the bright sunny sea before him now.

It was a thorough failure, for before many minutes had pa.s.sed, his thinking powers seemed to be rendered misty by a sunny glow through which he was wafted back to England, Kent, and his own old pleasant home.

His head had sunk back, and he was sleeping peacefully and well, not in the least disturbed by his attendant as the breakfast-things were removed and the cabin touched up. This done, Poole stood beside him, examining his position.

"Seems comfortable enough," he said, "and I don't think he can roll over. Poor old chap! It does seem a nasty turn, but it was not our fault. I hope he'll soon settle down, because he seems to be the sort of fellow, if he wasn't quite so c.o.c.ky, that one might come to like."

CHAPTER SIX.

ON TWO SIDES.

Fitz Burnett slept on during the greatest part of that day and most of the next; each time that he woke up he seemed better, and ready for the food that he had missed for so long and which was now so carefully prepared for him.

Very little had been said; the skipper's son attended upon him a.s.siduously, and was ready to enter into conversation, but his advances were met so shortly and snappishly, that he soon contented himself with playing the nurse seriously, while the invalid frowned and kept his eyes fixed upon the sea through the open cabin-window, rarely glancing at his attendant at all.

It was on the fourth day after the lad had recovered his senses and learned the truth of his position, that Poole made a remark about this change in their pa.s.senger to his father, who had come into the cabin to find the midshipman fast asleep.

"Is it right, father, that he should sleep so much?" said the lad.

"Certainly. He's getting on fast. Let him sleep as much as he can.

His wound is growing together again as quickly as it can. Can't you see how much better he is?"

"Well, I thought I could, dad," was the reply; "but every now and then I think he's getting worse."

"Eh? What makes you think that, lad? Does he begin to mope for his liberty?"

"I dare say he does, dad. It's only natural; but that isn't what I meant. What I thought was that though he seemed rather nice at first, he keeps on growing more and more disagreeable. He treats me sometimes just as if I were a dog."

"Well, you always were a precious young puppy, Poole," said the skipper, with a twinkle of the eye.--"Ah! No impudence now! If you dare to say that it's no wonder when I am such a rough old sea-dog, I'll throw something at you."

"Then it won't be thrown," said the lad, laughing. "But really, father, he is so stuck up and consequential sometimes, ordering me about, and satisfied with nothing I do, that it makes me feel peppery and ready to tell him that if he isn't satisfied he'd better do the things himself."

"Bah! Don't take any notice of him, boy. It's all a good sign, and means he's getting well fast."

"Well, it's not a very pleasant way of showing it, father."

"No, my boy, no; but we can't very well alter what is. Fellows who have been ill, and wounded men when they are taking a right turn, are weak, irritable, and dissatisfied. I think you'll find him all right by and by. Take it all calmly. He's got something to suffer, poor fellow, both mentally and from that hurt upon his head. Well, I'll go back on deck. I did come down to examine and dress his sconce again, but I'll leave that till another time."

He had hardly spoken before Fitz opened his eyes with a start, saw who was present, and turned pettishly away.

"Oh, it's you, doctor, is it?" he said. "I wish you wouldn't be always coming in here and bothering and waking me up. What do you want now?"

"I was only coming to bathe and re-plaster your head, squire," replied the bluff skipper good-humouredly.

Fitz gave himself an angry s.n.a.t.c.h round, and fixed his eyes frowningly upon the speaker.

"Look here," he said, "let's have no more of that, if you please. Have the goodness to keep your place, sir. If you don't know that you have a gentleman on board, please to learn it now, and have the goodness to be off and take that clumsy oaf with you. I want to sleep."

"Certainly," said the skipper quietly, and his son gave him a wondering look. "But as I am here I may as well see to your head. It is quite time it was done again."

"Look here," cried Fitz, "am I to speak again? I told you to go. When I want my head bandaged again I will send you word."

"All right, my lad," said the skipper good-humouredly.

"All right, _what_?" cried Fitz. "Will you have the goodness to keep this familiar way of speaking to people of your own cla.s.s!"

"Oh, certainly," said the skipper. "Very well, then; send for me when you feel disposed to have it dressed; and I'll tell you what, you can let Poole wait till the cool of the evening, and he can bathe it and do it then."

"Bah!" cried the lad angrily. "Is it likely I am going to trust myself in his clumsy hands? There, stop and do it now, as I am awake. Here, stop, get some fresh cool water and hold the basin. Pish! I mean that nasty tin-bowl."

Poole got what was necessary without a word, and then stood by while the injury was carefully bathed and bandaged, the patient not uttering a single word of thanks, but submitting with the worst of graces, and just giving his doctor a condescending nod when with a word of congratulation the latter left the cabin.

There was profound silence then, saving a click or two and a rustle as Poole put the various things away, Fitz lying back on his pillow and watching him the while, till at last he spoke, in an exacerbating way--

"Here, you sir, was that doctor, skipper, or whatever he calls himself, trained before he came to sea?"

Poole flushed and remained silent.

"Did you hear what I said, boy?" cried Fitz.

"Yes," was the short reply, resentfully given.

"Yes, _sir_. Impudent scoundrel! Do you know whom you are addressing?

_Sir_ to an officer in Her Majesty's service, whatever his rank."

"Oh, yes, I know whom I am talking to."