Middy and Ensign Part 17

"About krises being poisoned, doctor."

Doctor Bolter felt his patient's pulse.

"Have you been putting him up to thinking his wound was poisoned?" he said, angrily.

"No, doctor," said Tom Long, quietly; "it was my idea, and I feel sure it is."

"Tom Long," said Doctor Bolter, "you're only a boy, and if you weren't so ill, I'd box your ears. You've been frightening yourself into a belief that you are poisoned, and here's your pulse up, the d.i.c.kens knows how high. Now look here, sir, what's the use of your placing yourself in the hands of a surgeon, and then pretending to know better yourself?"

"I don't pretend, doctor."

"Yes, you do, sir. You set up a theory of your own that your blood is poisoned, in opposition to mine that it is not."

"But are you sure it is not, doctor?"

"Am I sure? Why, by this time if that kris had been poisoned you would have had lock-jaw."

"And Locke on the Understanding," put in Bob.

"Yes," laughed the doctor; "and been locked up altogether. There, there, my dear boy, keep yourself quiet, and trust me to bring you round. You, Bob Roberts, don't let him talk, and don't talk much yourself. You'd better go to sleep, Long."

"Wound pains me too much, doctor. It throbs so. Isn't that a sign of poison?"

"I'll go and mix you up a dose of poison that shall send you to sleep for twelve hours, my fine fellow, if you don't stop all that nonsense.

Your wound is not poisoned, neither is that of any other man who came back from the expedition; and if it's any satisfaction to you to know it, you've got the ugliest dig of any man--I mean boy--amongst the wounded."

The doctor arranged the matting-screen so as to admit more air, and bustled towards the door--but stopped short on hearing a buzzing sound at the open window, went back on tiptoe, and cleverly captured a large insect.

"A splendid longicorn," he said, fishing a pill-box from his pocket, and carefully imprisoning his captive. "Ah, my dear boys, what a pity it is that you do not take to collecting while you are young! What much better men you would make!"

"There," said Bob, as soon as they were alone, "how do you feel about your poison now?"

"He says it is not, just to cheer me up," said Tom Long, dolefully. "I say, Bob Roberts, if I die--"

"If you what?" cried Bob, in a tone of disgust.

"I say, if I die."

"Oh, ah, of course. Now then, let's have it. Do you want me to write a verse for your tombstone?"

"They'd pitch me overboard," said Long, dolefully.

"Not they," said Bob. "This promising young officer, who had taken it into his head that he had been wounded by a poisoned kris, was buried under a palm tree, to the great relief of all who knew him, for they found him the most conceited--"

"Bob Roberts!"

"Consequential--"

"I tell you what it is--"

"c.o.c.ky--"

"I never heard--"

"Unpleasant fellow that ever wore Her Majesty's uniform."

"Just wait till I get well, Master Bob Roberts," said Tom Long, excitedly, "and if I don't make you pay for all this, my name's not what it is."

"Thought you had made up your mind to die," said Bob, laughing. "There, it won't do, young man; so now go to sleep. I've got another half-hour, and I'll sit here and keep the flies from visiting your n.o.ble corpus too roughly; and when you wake up, if you find I am not here it is because I am gone. D'ye hear?"

"Yes," said Tom Long, drowsily; and in five minutes he was fast asleep, seeing which Bob sat till the last minute, and then went out on tiptoe to run and learn whether the boat was waiting by the landing-stage.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

AN UNPLEASANT INTERRUPTION.

The feeling of satisfaction was very general at the lesson given the rajah; and though his two prahus had escaped, his power had received a most severe blow.

Sultan Hamet was sincere enough in his demonstrations of pleasure, sending presents five or six times a day to the resident, the various officers, and, above all, fruit for the wounded men.

The presents were but of little value, but they showed the Malay's grat.i.tude, and the officers were very pleased with what they looked upon as curiosities. Even Bob Roberts and Tom Long were not forgotten, each receiving an ivory-mounted kris, the young chief Ali being the bearer.

The resident, however, felt that the sultan was not meeting him in quite a proper spirit, and he was rather suspicious, till a fresh emba.s.sy of the princ.i.p.al chiefs arrived, and brought a formal invitation for the resident and the officers to visit him upon a fixed day.

As before, an imposing force was got ready, and once more the march to what Bob had nick-named Palm Tree Palace, took place, the middy coming afterwards to Tom Long's room, and telling him how the affair had gone off.

"It was no end of a game," he said to the young ensign, who was rapidly gaining strength, the fancy that his wound was poisoned having pa.s.sed away. "We started just as we did last time, and marched through the jungle till we came to the sultan's barns, where the men were drawn up, and no end of the n.i.g.g.e.rs came to wait on them, bringing them a kind of drink made of rice, and plenty of fruit and things, while we officers had to go into the sultan's dining-room--a place hung round with cotton print--and there we all sat down, cross-legged, like a lot of jolly tailors, with the sultan up at the top, the major on one side, and our skipper on the other."

"But they didn't sit down cross-legged?" said Tom Long.

"Didn't they, my boy? But they just did; and it was a game to see our skipper letting himself down gently for fear of cracking his best white uniform sit-in-ems. Your major split some st.i.tches somewhere, for I heard them go. Then there was the doctor; you should have seen him! He came to an anchor right enough, but when he tried to square his yards--I mean his legs--he nearly went over backwards, and looked savage enough to eat me, because I laughed."

"Poor old doctor!" said Tom Long, smiling.

"Oh, we were all in difficulties, being cast upon our beam-ends as it were; but we got settled down in our berths at last, and then the dinner began."

"Was it good?" said Tom Long, whose appet.i.te was growing as he began to get better.

"Jolly!" said Bob, "capital! I say, though, how hot this place is."

"Yes," said the ensign, "the lamp makes it hot; but the window is wide open."

Bob glanced out into the darkness, to see the dark gleaming leaves, and the bright fire-flies dancing in the air, while right before them lay the smooth river, reflecting the brilliant stars.

"There was no cloth; but it was no end of fun. Mr Sultan is going in for English manners and customs, and he mixes them up with his own most gloriously. By way of ornaments there was a common black j.a.panned cruet-stand, with some trumpery bottles. There was one of those brown earthenware teapots, and an old willow-pattern soup tureen, without cover or stand, but full of flowers. Besides which, there were knives and forks, and spoons, regular cheap Sheffield kitchen ones, and as rusty as an old ring-bolt."

"Indeed!" said Tom Long.