The Lost Middy Part 62

"Humph! Well, I have been going it rather, haven't I?"

"Doing nothing else but growl."

"That's the worst of having a nasty temper. Don't do a bit of good either, does it?"

"Not a bit," said Aleck. "Makes things still worse."

"Think so?"

Aleck nodded.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll drop it then. Now, then, what do you say to having a good long snooze?"

"I'm willing," said Aleck, "for I'm thoroughly tired out."

"Put out the light then. My word, what a good thing sleep is!" said the midshipman, after they had lain in silence for a few minutes. "Makes you able to forget all your troubles."

There was a pause, and then the midshipman began:

"I say it makes you able to forget all your troubles, doesn't it?"

Still silence.

"Don't you hear what I say?"

No answer.

"Hanged if he isn't asleep! How a fellow can be such a dormouse-headed animal at a time like this I don't know."

He ought to have known, a minute later, for he was lying upon his back, fast asleep and breathing hard, dreaming of all kinds of pleasant things, some of which had to do with being feasted after getting free.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

The next day the two lads could only think of their attempt with a shudder, for their efforts, though they did not quite grasp the narrowness of their escape from death, had resulted in a peculiar shock to their system, one effect of which was to make then disinclined to do anything more than sit and lie in the darkness watching the faint suggestion of dawn in the direction of the submerged archway. Then, too, they slept a good deal, while even on the following day they both suffered a good deal from want of energy.

Towards evening, though, Aleck roused up.

"Look here, sailor," he said, "this will not do. We ought to be doing something."

"What?" said the middy, sadly. "Try again to drown ourselves?"

"Oh, no; that was a bit of madness. We mustn't try that again."

"What then? It seems to me that we may as well keep going to sleep till we don't wake again."

"What!" shouted Aleck, his companion's words fully rousing him from his lethargic state. "Well, of all the cowardly things for a fellow to say!"

"Cowardly!" cried the middy, literally galvanised into action by the sound of that word. "You want to quarrel, then, do you? You want to fight, eh? Very well, I'm your man. Let's light the lanthorn and have it out at once."

"Oh, very well," cried Aleck. "There's a nice soft bit of sand yonder that will just do."

The middy snorted like an angry animal and began to breathe hard, while Aleck, feeling regularly angry now, felt for the tinder-box and matches, and began to send the sparks flying in showers.

The tinder was soon glowing, the match well alight, and a fresh candle stuck in its place, the lanthorn being set upon a flat stone, with the door open, after which the two lads slipped off their jackets and rolled up their sleeves.

"Shut the lanthorn door, stupid," cried the middy.

"What for?"

"What for? To keep the candle from tumbling out the first time I knock you up against that stone."

"I should like to catch you at it," said Aleck. "If I shut the door how am I to see to hit you on the nose?"

"You hit me on the nose? Ha, ha!" cried the middy. "Why, I shall have you calling out that you've had enough long before you get there."

"We shall see," said Aleck. "Don't you think that you're going to frighten me with a lot of bounce. Now, then, are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready enough. I'll show you whether I'm a coward or not.

Here, hold out your hand."

"What for?"

"To shake hands, of course, and show that we mean fair play."

"I never stopped for that when I had a fight with the Rockabie boys, but there you are."

Hands were grasped, and the midshipman was about to withdraw his, but it was held tightly, and somehow or another his own fingers began to respond in a tight clench.

And thus they stood for quite a minute, while some subtle fluid like common-sense in a gaseous form seemed to run up their arms through their shoulders, and then divide, for part to feed their brains and the other part to make their hearts beat more calmly.

At last Aleck spoke.

"I say," he said, "aren't we going to make fools of ourselves?"

"I don't know," was the reply, "but I'll show you I'm not a coward."

"I never thought you were a coward, but you'd say I was one if I told you that I didn't want to fight."

"No, I shouldn't," said the middy, "because I can't help feeling that it is stupid, and I don't want to fight either."

"Then, why should we fight?"

"Oh," said the middy, "there are times when a gentleman's bound to stand upon his honour. We ought to fight now with pistols; but as we have none why, of course, it has to be fists. Besides, I don't suppose you could use a pistol, and it wouldn't be fair for me to shoot you."

"I daresay I know as much about pistols as you do," said Aleck. "I've shot at a mark with my uncle. But we needn't argue about that."

"No, we've got our fists, so let's get it done."