Sail Ho! Part 13

"I beg your pardon," said Mr Preddle.

"I didn't speak, sir."

"No; but I had gone into a brown study. There, the fish will do now."

We both went on deck, and somehow when I was alone I too went into a brown study, and began wondering at Mr Preddle's curious ways, and thinking what a pity it was that a gentleman like Mr Denning, who was on a voyage for the sake of his health, should take such a dislike to Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle too. It hardly seemed to be like irritability, for after all he was as merry and friendly with the officers as he was with me. I never went near him without his beckoning to me to come to his side, and both he and his sister were quite affectionate to me, making my first long voyage wonderfully pleasant, and the captain encouraged it.

"He must have heard something about them," I thought, and then I began to think about Walters and the French sailor and the other sailors, of those who seemed to form one party all to themselves, and of the others who kept more along with Bob Hampton and his two friends, who had sailed together for so many years.

"There, what does it matter?" I said to myself, as I roused myself from my musings. "Walters doesn't like Bob Hampton because Bob laughed at him, and that's why he hangs toward Jarette; pities him, perhaps, because they both got into trouble with the officers, and birds of a feather flock together."

These were all dreamy thoughts, like clouds in my mind. I could not understand them. I grew wiser later on when the troubles came.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

I had so many things to take up my attention that I forgot all about hearing Jarette and Walters talking together. Perhaps it came to mind once or twice afterwards, but it made no impression then, however much I may have thought about it afterwards. For then I was trying to learn my duties, studying up a little navigation, helping Mr Preddle with his fish that were to stock the New Zealand rivers with trout, and attending to Mr Denning. I suppose it was attending upon him, but to me it was all one jolly time of amus.e.m.e.nt, during which the poor fellow seemed to forget all about his bad health, and became as interested as a boy with our various bits of sport.

Now in a fast steamer there is not much done, for I suppose that quick rush of the vessel, as it ploughs its way through the sea, startles the fish away to right and left, and then when they might be swimming quietly after the first rush, the tremendous beating up of the water by the whirling screw sends them off again, and makes the water so foamy that they cannot see a bait.

But with a sailing vessel it is different. When there is not much wind, of course she glides along gently, leaving a wake of foam, but the water is not so disturbed; and soon after the weather had settled down, and was day by day growing warmer, so that the awning was rigged up over the p.o.o.p, and our fishing began.

"Oh yes," Captain Berriman said, "fish away, sir, and the more fresh fish you catch for us, the better the pa.s.sengers and crew will like it."

I was standing by one morning when this was said, and Miss Denning glanced at me and smiled as if she knew what was coming.

"You will let young Dale help me?" said Mr Denning. "Want him?"

"Oh yes."

"Take him, then. He isn't much use," said the captain, laughingly. "I often wonder why the owners have boys on board. Better have young Walters, he's more of a sailor than this fellow."

"Oh no," said Mr Denning, "I should like Dale."

"All right," said the captain. "Don't tumble overboard, Dale."

"I'll try not, sir," I said, "but I can swim."

"So much the better, my lad, but it takes a long time to lower a boat down, and a man overboard gets left a long way behind when a ship is in full sail."

He walked away, and looking as eager as I did, Mr Denning began about a fishing-line, while his sister looked bright and happy to see her brother so much interested in the plans he had in view.

"I suppose there are plenty of fishing-lines on board," he said. "Let's get right back beyond the man at the wheel, and fish from there."

"I'll go and see about the lines," I said; and I went forward to where the boatswain was looking after some men who were bending on a new sail.

"Lines? Fishin'-lines, my lad?--no, I don't know of any."

Directly after I came upon Walters. "I say, do you know anything about any fishing-lines?" I said.

"Of course I do," he replied in a contemptuous tone; "who doesn't?"

"But where do they keep them--with the stores?"

"Who's going fishing?" said Walters. "Mr Denning."

"Oh! I'll come and help him; I like fishing," he said.

I looked at him curiously, as I thought of what had been said, and then asked him again.

"I don't know," he cried, "I don't carry fishing-lines in my pockets.

Ask old fat Preddle, he's a regular fisherman. But you won't catch any."

I did not think Mr Preddle was likely to have lines, so I did not ask him, but thought I would go and ask every man I met, when I caught sight of Bob Hampton, and went to him.

"Fishin'-lines, my lad? No, I don't think there's any aboard."

"Yes, there are," growled Barney; "I see Frenchy Jarette rigging some up t'other day, as if he meant to have a try."

I felt as if I did not like to ask a favour of the Frenchman, for somehow I did not like him; but feeling that Mr Denning would be disappointed if none were found, I asked where the man was, and found that he was down in the forecastle asleep, for he had been in one of the night watches.

It was so dark there, that for a few moments I could not make out which of the sleeping men lying there was the one I sought. They were all breathing heavily, and at first going down out of the bright sunshine the faces all looked alike; but after getting a little more accustomed to the gloom, I saw a hand just where the faint rays came down through a little sky-light, and on one of the fingers there was a silver ring.

Thinking that the wearer might possibly be the Frenchman, I went farther and looked a little more closely, and saw that I was right, for though I could not have been sure that the ring on the hand proved this to be the man I sought, one that I could just make out in the ear satisfied me, and stooping lower still I laid my hand upon his shoulder.

The touch had no effect, and I took hold and shook him.

"Jarette--Jarette!" I said.

He sprang partly up with a faint cry, and to my horror, gripped me by the throat.

"Curse you, I'll--Ah, it's you, cher ami," he said, beginning fiercely, and changing his tone to a whisper. "No, no, not yet," he continued, "it isn't ripe. Wait, cher ami, wait a little."

"Jarette," I said wonderingly, for the man puzzled me--I had no key to his meaning then--"wake up. I'm sorry I roused you, but we want a fishing-line, and Bob Hampton says you have some."

"What--to fish! No, you wish to speak. Hist! I--ah, I see now," he cried quickly. "It is dark below. I see it is you, Mr Dale.

Fishing-lines? Yes, I get you some."

"Why, you thought I was Mr Walters," I said, laughing.

"I?--my faith, no, sir. I was asleep and dreaming. Yes," he continued, scrambling out and going to a canvas bag, out of which he drew a large square wooden winder.

"There; it is a very long line and nearly new. I have not used it once, sir. Mister the captain objects to the men having these dela.s.s.e.m.e.nts, these untirings, when you are weary."

"Oh, thank you, Jarette," I cried eagerly.

"And here are these hooks, if the one at the end breaks."

"Yes."