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Fitz the Filibuster, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 13. A Question Of Duty |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. A QUESTION OF DUTY The wind was paradoxical. A succession of calms and light breezes from adverse quarters--in short, as bad as could be for the schooner's expedition. But, on the other hand, the days grew into weeks in a climate that might be called absolutely perfect, and from his first coming on deck and helping in the capture of the bonito, Fitz Burnett advanced by steps which became long strides on his journey back to health. With the disappearance of suffering, away went all bad temper with the irritation that had caused it. The boy had lain in his berth and thought every night before going to sleep about his position and his helplessness, and had fully come to the conclusion that though the people among whom he was, skipper, officers and men, were in a way enemies, he could not be held accountable for anything they did, and as they had treated him throughout with the greatest kindness, it would be ungracious on his part to go, as he termed it, stalking about on stilts and making himself as disagreeable to them as he would be to himself. "Old Reed's quite right, after all," he said, "though I don't like it a bit. I must make the best of my position. But only let me get half a chance, and I shall be off." The boy then, as he rapidly recovered his strength, went about the deck amongst the men, and became what he termed extremely thick with Poole. There were times when he felt that they were becoming great friends, for Poole was a thoroughly intelligent lad who had had a good deal of experience for one of his years; but in these early stages of his recovery, so sure as there was a little change in the weather, with the damp or wind, twinges of pain and depression of spirits attacked the midshipman; the physical suffering introduced the mental, and for a few hours perhaps Fitz would feel, to use his own words, as disagreeable as could be. It was during one of these attacks that the idea came back very strongly that he was not doing his duty as an officer. He worked himself up into the feeling that he was behaving in a cowardly way now that he had great opportunities, and that if he did not seize one of these it would be to his disgrace. "I ought to do it," he said, "and I will. It only wants pluck, for I have got right on my side. It is almost as good as having the gunboat and her crew at my back. It's one of those chances such as we read of in history, where one fellow steps out to the front and carries all before him. I did not see it so clearly before as I do now. That's what I ought to do, and I am going to do it. Poole will think it abominably ungrateful, and his father will be horribly wild; but I have got my duty to do, and it must be done, so here goes." But "here" did not go, for on second thoughts matters did not seem quite so clear; but a day or two after, when the notion had been steadily simmering in his mind it seemed at last to be quite done, and shutting his eyes to all suggestions regarding impossibility or madness, he made his plunge. Fitz was not well. The weather had grown intensely hot, and unconsciously he was suffering from a slight touch of fever, which he complained about to Poole, who explained to him what it was, after reference to his father, and came back to him with a tiny packet of white crystals in some blue paper, and instructions that he was to take the powder at once. "Fever, is it?" said Fitz, rather sourly. "One couldn't be catching fever out here in the open sea. I shall see your father myself. Why didn't he come on deck yesterday?" "Because he isn't well. He's got a touch of fever too. He had got the bottle out of the medicine-chest, and was taking a dose when I went into his cabin." "What!" cried Fitz. "Then he's caught the fever too?" "Oh no; he caught it years ago, on the Mosquito Coast, and now and then when we get in for a change of weather like we have just had, it breaks out again and he's very ill for a few days; but he soon comes round." "But I was never on the Mosquito Coast," cried Fitz impatiently. "I never caught a fever there, and I couldn't catch one like that of your father." "No," said Poole; "father was talking about it, and he said yours was a touch due to your being susceptible after being so much hurt. That's how he said it was. Now then, come down to the cabin and take your physic like a good boy." "I am not going to do anything of the sort," said Fitz shortly. "I took plenty while I was ill and weak, and you could do what you liked with me. But I am strong enough now, and if what I feel is due to the weather, when it changes the trouble will soon go off." "I dare say it will," said Poole, laughing; "but you needn't make a fuss about swallowing this little scrap of bitter powder. Come on and take it like a man." "Don't bother," said Fitz shortly, and he walked away right into the bows, climbed out on to the bowsprit, and sat down to think. "He's a rum chap," said Poole, as he stood watching him, and putting the powder back into his pocket. "He makes me feel as if I liked and could do anything for him sometimes, and then when he turns cocky I begin to want to punch his head." Poole turned and went down into the cabin, where his father was lying in his berth looking flushed and weary, and evidently suffering a good deal. "Well, boy," said the skipper; "did he take his dose?" "No, father. He's ready to kick against everything now." "Well," said the skipper shortly, "let him kick." Fitz was already kicking as he sat astride the bowsprit, looking out to sea and talking excitedly to himself. "Yes," he said, "I like them, and we have got to be very good friends; but I have got my duty to do as a Queen's officer, and do it I will. Why, it's the very chance. Like what people call a fatality. That's right, I think. Just as if it were made on purpose. Of course I know that I am only a boy--well, a good big boy, almost a man; but I am a Queen's officer, and if I speak to the men it is in the Queen's name. And look at them too. They are not like ordinary sailors. I have not been on board this schooner and mixing with them and talking to them all this time for nothing. It was plain enough at first, and I was nearly sure, but I made myself quite. Nearly every one of them has been at some time or other in the Royal Navy--men who have served their time, and then been got hold of by the skipper to sign and serve on board his craft. They are a regular picked crew of good seamen fit to serve on board any man-of-war, and I wonder they haven't been kept. They weren't all trained for nothing. See how well they obey every order, as smart as smart. That means training and recollecting the old discipline. Why, if I talk to them right they won't stop to think that I am only a middy. I shall speak to them as an officer, and it will come natural to them to obey--in the Queen's name. It is my duty too as an officer, and as an officer it means everything--midshipman, lieutenant, captain or admiral--an admiral is only an officer, and at a time like this I am equal to an admiral--well, say captain. I don't care, I'll do it.--All these rough plucky chaps of course wouldn't be afraid of me as a boy; they'd laugh at me. Of course I know that; but it will be the officer speaking--yes, the officer." The middy's head began metaphorically to swell out until it seemed to grow very big indeed, making him feel quite a man--and more. "Yes," he said, "I'll do it. I must do it. Now's the time, and I should be an idiot if I neglected such a chance." Drawing a deep breath, he turned his head slowly, and assuming as careless a manner as he could command, he looked back inboard beneath the swelling sails, to see that several of the men were lying asleep in the shade, while others were smoking and chatting together. The boatswain was not visible, and the mate was apparently below, the after part of the vessel being vacant save that the man at the wheel was standing with outstretched hands resting upon the spokes, moving his lower jaw slowly as he worked at his succulent quid. Poole was still below with his father in the cabin, so that to the middy's way of thinking he had the deck to himself. He took another deep breath, and with his heart beating heavily, swung himself round, laid hold of a rope, and climbed inboard again, when assuming a nonchalance he did not feel as he dropped upon the deck, he thrust his hands into his pockets, mastered the desire to run, and beginning to whistle, stalked slowly aft till he reached the companion-hatch, and began to descend the steps without a sound. Now was the critical time, for as he went down he could see that the cabin-door was shut, and hear the dull burr, burr, burr-like murmur of the captain's voice talking to his son. Half-way down Fitz stopped short, for he heard a movement as if Poole were crossing the cabin, and if he came out now the opportunity was gone. The middy felt the sensation as of a spasm attacking his chest, and as he paused there, half suffocated, he trembled with anger against himself for losing such a chance; but the sound within the cabin ceased, the captain's voice went murmuring on once more, and the suffocating sensation passed away, leaving the boy ready to seize his opportunity, and quick as thought he descended the last few steps, paused at the cabin-entry, and raising his hand quickly and silently, secured the outer door. _ |
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