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Fitz the Filibuster, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 4. Another Boy |
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_ CHAPTER FOUR. ANOTHER BOY It was either sunrise or sunset, for the cabin was full of a rich warm glow, and Fitz lay upon his back listening to a peculiar sound which sounded to him like _fuzz, whuzz, thrum_. He did not attempt to turn his head for some moments, though he wanted to know what made those sounds, for during some little time he felt too lazy to stir, and at last he turned his head gently and remembered the eyes that had looked at him once, and recalled the face now bent down over something before him from which came those peculiar sounds. Fitz felt interested, and watched the busy ringers, the passing and re-passing needle, and the manipulation of a mesh, for some time before he spoke. "How quick and clever he is!" he thought, and then almost unconsciously a word slipped out. "Netting?" he said. Needle, string and mesh were thrown down, and Fitz's fellow-occupier of the cabin started up and came to his side, to bend over and lay a brown cool hand upon his forehead. "Feel better?" he said. "Better?" said Fitz peevishly. "Yes, of course." "Why--Here, stop a moment. Who are you?" "No doubt about it," was the reply. "That's the first time you have talked sensibly." "You be hanged!" said Fitz sharply. But as he spoke it did not seem like his own voice, but as if somebody else had spoken in a weak, piping tone. He did not trouble himself about that, though, for his mind was beginning to be an inquiring one. "Why don't you answer?" he said. "Who are you? What's your name?" "Poole Reed." "Oh! Then how came you in my cabin?" "Well," said the lad, with a pleasant laugh, which made his rather plain face light up in the warm sunset glow and look almost handsome; not that that was wonderful, for a healthy, good-tempered boy's face, no matter what his features, always has a pleasant look,--"I think I might say what are you doing in my cabin?" "Eh?" cried Fitz, looking puzzled. "How came I--your cabin--your cabin? Is it your cabin?" The lad nodded. "I don't know," said Fitz. "How did I come here?" "But it is my cabin--rather." "Yes, yes; but how did I come here?" "Why, in the boat." "In a boat?" said Fitz thoughtfully--"in a boat? I came in a boat? Yes, I suppose so, because we are at sea. But somehow I don't know how it is. I can't recollect. But I say, hasn't it turned _very_ warm?" "Yes. Getting warmer every day." "But my head--I don't understand." "Don't you? Well, never mind. How do you feel?" "Oh, quite well, thank you. But I want to know why I am here--in your cabin." "Oh, you will know soon enough. Don't worry about it now till you get strong again." "Till I get strong again? There, now you are beginning to puzzle me once more. I am strong enough now, and--No, I am not," added the lad, rather pitifully, as he raised one hand and let it fall back. "That arm feels half numbed as if it had been hurt, and," he added, rather excitedly, "you asked me how I was. Have I been ill?" "Yes, very," was the reply. "But don't fret about it. You are coming all right again fast." Fitz lay back with his brow wrinkled up, gazing at his companion and trying to think hard; but all in vain, and with a weary gesticulation-- "I can't understand," he said. "I try to think, but my head seems to go rolling round again, and I can only remember that mill." "Then take my advice about it. Don't try to think at all." "But I must think; I want to know." "Oh, you'll know soon enough. You can't think, because you are very weak now. I was just the same when I had the fever at Vera Cruz--felt as if my head wouldn't go; but it got better every day, and that's how yours will be." "Did I catch a fever, then?" said Fitz eagerly. "No," was the reply. "You caught something else," and the speaker smiled grimly. "Caught something else? And been very bad?" The lad nodded. "Then--then," cried Fitz excitedly, "Captain Glossop had me sent aboard this ship to get me out of the way?" "Well, not exactly. But don't you bother, I tell you. You are getting right again fast, and father says you'll be all right now you have turned the corner." "Who's 'father'?" said Fitz. "That's a rum question. Why, my father, of course--the skipper of this schooner." "Oh, I see; the skipper of this schooner," said Fitz thoughtfully. "Is it a fast one?" "Awfully," said the lad eagerly. "You will quite enjoy seeing how we can sail when you are well enough to come on deck. Why, if you go on like this we ought to be able to get you up in a day or two. The weather is splendid now. My father is a capital doctor." "What!" cried Fitz. "Why, you told me just now that he was the skipper of this schooner." "Well, so he is. But I say, don't you worry about asking questions. Couldn't you drink a cup of tea?" "I don't know; I dare say I could. Yes, I should like one. But never mind about that now. I don't quite understand why Captain Glossop should send me on board this schooner. This is not the Liverpool Hospital Ship, is it?" "Oh no." "How many sick people have you got on board?" "None at all," said the lad, "now you are getting well." Fitz lay looking at the speaker wistfully. There was something about his frank face and manner that he liked. "I don't understand," he said sadly. "It's all a puzzle, and I suppose it is all as you say through being so ill." "Yes, of course. That's it, old chap. I say, you don't mind me calling you 'old chap,' do you?" "Well, no," said Fitz, smiling sadly. "You mean it kindly, I suppose." "Well, I want to be kind to you, seeing how bad you've been. I thought one day you were going to Davy Jones's locker, as the sailors call it." "Was I so bad as that?" cried Fitz eagerly. "Yes, horrid. Father and I felt frightened, because it would have been so serious; but there, I won't say another word. I am going to get you some tea." The invalid made an effort to stay him, but the lad paid no heed-- hurrying out of the cabin and shutting the door quietly after him, leaving Fitz deep in thought. He lay with his white face wrinkled up, trying hard, in spite of what had been said, to think out what it all meant, but always with his thoughts tending towards his head rolling round in a mill and getting no farther; in fact, it seemed to be going round again for about the nth time, as mathematicians term it, when the cabin-door once more opened, and his attendant bore in a steaming hot cup of tea, to be closely followed by a bluff-looking, middle-aged man, sun-browned, bright-eyed and alert, dressed in semi-naval costume, and looking like a well-to-do yachtsman. He smiled pleasantly as he gave a searching look at the invalid, and sat down at once upon a chair close to the lad's pillow, leaning over to touch his brow and then feel his pulse. "Bravo!" he said. "Capital!--Humph! So you are thinking I don't look like a doctor, eh?" "Yes," replied Fitz sharply. "How did you know that?" "Because it is written in big letters all over your face. Why, you are getting quite a new man, and we will have you on deck in a day or two." "Thank you," said Fitz. "It is very good of you to pay so much attention to an invalid. I knew you were not a doctor because your son here said so; but you seem to have done me a great deal of good, and I hope you think I am grateful. I am sure Captain Glossop will be very much obliged." "Humph!" said the skipper dryly. "I hope he will. But there, try your tea. I dare say it will do you good." As he spoke the skipper passed one muscular arm gently under the boy's shoulders and raised him up, while his son bent forward with the tea. "Thank you," said Fitz, "but there was no need for that. I could have-- Oh, how ridiculous to be so weak as this!" "Oh, not at all," said the skipper. "Why, you have been days and days without any food--no coal in your bunkers, my lad. How could you expect your engines to go?" "What!" cried Fitz. "Days and days! Wasn't I taken ill yesterday?" "Well, not exactly, my lad," said the skipper dryly; "but don't you bother about that now. Try the tea." The cup was held to his lips, and the lad sipped and then drank with avidity. "'Tis good," he muttered. "That's right," said the skipper. "You were a bit thirsty, I suppose. Why, you will soon be ready to eat, but we mustn't go too fast; mind that, Poole. Gently does it, mind, till he gets a bit stronger.--Come, finish your tea.--That's the way. Now let me lay you down again." This was done, and the boy's face wrinkled up once more. "I am so weak," he said querulously. "To be sure you are, my lad, but that will soon go off now. You've got nothing to do but to lie here and eat and drink and sleep, till you come square again. My boy Poole here will look after you, and to-morrow or next day we will carry you up on deck and let you lie in a cane-chair. You will be able to read soon, and play draughts or chess, and have a fine time of it." "Thank you; I am very much obliged," said the young midshipman warmly. "I want to get well again, and I will try not to think, but there is one thing I should like to ask." "Well. So long as it isn't questions, go on, my lad." "I want you to write a letter home, it doesn't matter how short it is, about my having been ill--so long as you tell my mother that I am getting better from my attack. Your son said when I asked him, that I got it on the head, and I am afraid my mother would not understand that, so you had better say what fever it was, for I am sure she'd like to know. What fever was it, Captain? You might tell me that!" "Eh, what--what fever?" said the skipper. "Ah, ah," and he gave a peculiar cock of his eye towards his son, "brain-fever, my lad, brain-fever. It made you a bit delirious. But that's all over now." "And you will write, sir? I'll give you the address." "Write?" said the captain. "Why not wait till you get into port? You will be able then to write yourself." "Oh, but I can't wait for that, sir. If you would kindly write the letter and send it ashore by one of the men in your boat, it will be so much better." "All right, my lad. I'll see to it. But there, now. You've talked too much. Not another word. I am your doctor, and my orders are that you now shut your eyes and go to sleep." As he spoke the skipper made a sign to his son, and they both left the cabin, the latter bearing the empty cup. _ |
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