Chapter 27. The Crew Have Their Own Opinions

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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. THE CREW HAVE THEIR OWN OPINIONS

The utter exhaustion produced by the struggle on the mountain slope and through the forest died away with Jack in the light of the terrible trouble which had come upon him; and as the afternoon wore on he just partook of such food as his father brought to him, for he would not leave the wounded man's side; and at last sunset came as they lay about a couple of miles out softly rocking upon the calm sea. He had heard how the canoes had been watched till they disappeared below the horizon line, and that all danger from another attack had passed away, but that seemed nothing in the face of this great trouble.

The night was approaching fast, and Jack shuddered at the thought of the darkness, and what it would bring; and once more it seemed impossible that the strong, active fellow who had been his companion that morning should be passing away.

If he could only have done something besides kneel there, keeping the poor fellow's head cool--something that would have helped him in his terrible fight with death--he would not have suffered so much; but to be so completely impotent seemed more than he could bear.

"You will go to bed early, Jack," said his father that evening, when the cabin was almost dark from the lamp being turned low.

"No, father; I am going to stop here, please," he replied.

"I will take your place, my boy. I feel too that we owe a great duty to the faithful fellow who has served us so long. You are tired out."

"No, father, I don't feel a bit tired now. Don't ask me to leave him. It is so hard with no one who knows him here; and I feel as if he will come to his senses some time, and would like to speak to me. I never did anything for him, but he always seemed to like me."

"Very well, Jack," said Sir John quietly, "I will not press you to go. But you will take necessary refreshment from time to time?"

"I could not touch anything," said the boy with a shudder.

"If you do not you will break down."

"Tell the steward to bring me some tea, then, by and by. You will go to bed?"

"I? No, my boy. I could not sleep."

Jack was left alone with the patient save when every half-hour or so the doctor and Sir John came down from the deck to minister in some way, and the long-drawn-out night slowly passed, with poor Ned breathing painfully, and lying nearly motionless, till a faint light began to come through the cabin windows, and the distant cries of birds floated to him over the sea.

Another day was at hand, and the solemnity of the hour seemed appalling to the watcher as he rose and went to the open window. A sense of the terrible loneliness of the sea oppressed him, and, exhausted now, he felt how helpless he was, how awful and strange was the change from night to the coming of another day.

There was not a sound to be heard on deck, though he knew that there were watchers there too, but not a footfall nor a whisper could be heard.

He stood there looking at the paling stars and the faint streaks of soft light low down in the east, till the black water stretching out to the horizon grew to be of a dull leaden grey, which gradually became silvery with a peculiar sheen, and then all at once there was the tiny fiery spot high up to the right above where the reef encircled the island, which was too distant now, after the night's steady glide away upon the current, for the breakers to be heard.

"Will he live to see the sun rise once more?" thought the boy, as the silvery sheen grew brighter on the surface of the sea, and then he started, and a great dread came upon him, for he felt that the time had come, for a faint voice said--

"Is that you, Mr Jack?"

Jack's first thought was to call the doctor from the deck, but he did not, he stepped quickly to the couch.

"I thought it was your back, sir. I've been watching you ever so long. I say, hadn't you better have the lamp lit, and let some of 'em carry me to my berth?"

"The lamp lit, Ned?" faltered Jack, with his heart fluttering the while.

"Yes, sir; it'll be quite dark directly."

"Yes," thought the lad, with a pang of misery shooting through him as he realised that after all this man was a friend that he could not afford to lose, "it will be quite dark directly."

"I'd go and fetch one, sir, but I don't feel up to it. I should go down on my nose if I tried to stand; and," he continued, laughing weakly, "smash the glass shade."

"Ned!" cried Jack, catching his hand, which closed upon it tightly.

"Have I been lying here all the afternoon, sir?"

"Yes--yes," sighed Jack, and he tried to withdraw his hand so as to call for help; but Ned clung to it tightly.

"What a shame! Upsetting everybody, and turning the gentlemen out of their place. I say, you can't have had dinner here, sir."

"No, Ned."

"'Shamed of myself. I don't know how time's gone. Been asleep. Dreaming like mad, and--Heigho! ha--hum! Hark at that, sir, for a yawn. Never put my hand before my mouth. I say, what about the niggers?"

"We are far out at sea, Ned," whispered Jack.

"Good job. I don't know though. I hope we shall go and give 'em an awful thrashing. We didn't interfere with them. Coming and shotting their arrows at us behind our backs. I say, Mr Jack, don't you get one in you. My word, how it does make you dream--all the awfullest nonsense you could imagine. I should like to tell you, but it's all mixed up so. I say, I fainted, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"I remember; up there in the wood. I felt myself going like a great gal. Just as I did once when I was a boy. How rum! That was through an arrow. I used to make myself bows and arrows, and I was making a deal arrow, and smoothing it with a bit of glass, when the bit broke and I cut my finger awful, and turned sick, and down I went.--I say, Mr Jack."

"Yes, Ned," said the lad in a voice full of pity.

"I can't recollect a bit after that. How did you yet me down to the boat?"

"The men carried you."

"One to them. My turn next. Good lads. Then you rowed out to the yacht."

"Yes, Ned."

"Yacht! I wish I could spell yacht when I write a letter home ready for posting first chance. I always get the letters mixed up. But I say, Mr Jack, this won't do! I say, would you mind giving me a bit of a pull? I could walk to my berth. This is luxurious, this is. Me on the cabin couch, and you waiting on me. Here, I feel like a rich lord. Now pull."

"No, no, Ned; lie still."

"I say, don't you get taking on like that, Mr Jack, sir," said the man earnestly. "That is being chicken-'arted. I'm all right. These two holes in my arm don't burn so; don't burn at all. Feel as if I hadn't got no arm that side. But I say, what's the matter?"

"Oh, Ned, my poor fellow!"

"Here, I say, Mr Jack, sir! Don't--don't, please. I say, I have upset you; but--Here, what does that mean? am I a bit off my head?"

"No, Ned, you are quite sensible now."

"No, I ain't, sir; I can't be, because things seem to be going backward. 'Tain't the moon, is it? because it's getting light instead of dark."

"Yes, Ned, the sun will soon rise."

"What! Don't play--No, you wouldn't do that. Sun rise? Why, I ain't been lying here all night, sir?"

"Yes, Ned."

"Well, my lad, how are you?" said Doctor Instow. "I thought I heard you speaking."

"Morning, sir. You're up early, sir. Won't want calling."

"No, I shall not want calling this morning, Ned. How are you?"

"About all right, sir, only I don't seem to have no arm. Oh, Mr Jack-- Sir John!" cried the man wildly as his master entered the cabin, and he turned his head with a shiver from his injured limb, "you ain't let him do that, have you, while I've been asleep?"

"Do what, Ned?" said Jack in a soothing voice.

"Take a fellow's arm off, sir."

"No, no, Ned, my lad," said the doctor, laying his hand upon his patient's forehead. "It feels numb and dead from the wound."

"Then--then it isn't off?" cried the poor fellow with a gasp. "Oh, thank goodness! It give me quite a turn, sir, and I was afraid to look."

"You're better, Ned, and coming round fast," said the doctor, as a warm glow of light began to illumine the cabin, driving away the shadows of that terrible night.

"Oh yes, sir, I'm all right," said the wounded man, speaking more strongly now. Then in quite an apologetic tone, "Not quite all right, Sir John; you see, there's my arm. Sorry to have give so much trouble, Sir John; but you see, it wasn't quite my fault."

"Ah, lie still, you rascal!" said the doctor, as the man made an attempt to rise.

"Yes, don't move, Edward," said Sir John warmly. "I am very very thankful to see you so much better."

"Thankye, Sir John. It's very good of you to say so. But I can't stop here in your way. Seems as if I was shamming ill like so as to get waited on: and if there's anything I hate it's that. Don't seem nat'ral, Mr Jack, sir."

"Now lie still and be silent," said the doctor sharply. "Your tongue's running nineteen to the dozen, and it will not do your arm any good."

"But really, sir," protested Ned, "if you'd put on a couple of good round pieces of sticking-plaster, and let me wear it in a sling for a day or two, it would be all right."

"Will you hold your tongue, sir, hang you!" cried the doctor sharply. "I'd better put a bit of sticking-plaster on that. Do you think I want you to teach me my profession as a surgeon?"

"No, sir; beg pardon, sir."

"Silence, sir!"

Ned screwed up his mouth and his eyes as well. "Now, Jack, my lad," said the doctor, "I can't afford to have you ill too. Go to your room, undress and get into bed."

"Doctor! Now?"

"Yes, my lad, now. You went through a terrible day of excitement yesterday, and you have not stirred from this poor fellow's side all night."

"Mr Jack, sir! Oh!" cried Ned in a voice full of reproach.

"Look here, Ned," said the doctor, "if you say another word I'll give you a draught that will send you to sleep for twelve hours.--Now, Jack, my lad, do as I advise. Believe it is for your good. Go and sleep as long as you can. Never mind about it's being daylight. Ned is quite out of danger, and in a few days, when the poison is quite eliminated, he will be himself again."

At the words "danger" and "poison" the man's eyes opened wonderingly, and he looked at Sir John and his young master in turn.

"Yes, Jack, my lad, go."

"But if--"

"There is no _if_ in the case, my boy," said the doctor. "It was a battle between the poor fellow's strength and the poison on that wretched arrow, and Ned has won."

"Oh!" ejaculated the man softly.

At that moment the captain and Mr Bartlett entered the cabin.

"We have heard all you said," exclaimed the former, as he came to the side of the couch and took the patient's hand, to give it a firm grip. "Good lad: well done."

"And I am very glad, Ned," said the mate warmly.

"There, that will do," said the doctor sharply. "He is forbidden to speak, but he says through me, that he is very grateful to you all, and glad to find that his manly, straightforward, willing ways have won him so many friends. Nod your head to that, Ned."

The man gave him a comically pitiful look, which seemed to Jack to mean, "Oh, I say, doctor, you're pitching that last too strong," but he remained quiet after giving every one an attempt at a nod.

"Now then," said, the doctor, "I want this cabin cleared, for he is going to sleep for a few hours, to get cool and calm. Yes, you are," said the doctor, in answer to a look full of protest. "And as soon as you wake I'll have you carried to your own berth. There, behave yourself, and you'll be all right in a few days."

Half-an-hour later both patient and Jack were sleeping soundly, and that evening, thoroughly out of danger, Ned was resting again in his own berth, and Jack was dining with the rest in the cabin as if nothing whatever had occurred; the yacht many miles now from the island, which stood in the evening light like a blunted cone of perfect regularity resting upon the placid sea.

That night the regular watch was kept, and the sea was steadily swept in search of danger in the shape of canoes stealthily approaching to try and take the yacht by surprise. But no danger came near, and at last, after lying awake for some time, thinking of the account his father had given him of the attack made by the enemy, and the terrible anxiety about the little shooting party, Jack fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, to rise refreshed and find the doctor's prognostic was correct, the patient having also had a quiet night, with the steward and Lenny to keep watch by his pillow, and there was no sign of fever to check a rapid recovery.

That day, with his mind at ease, Jack sat listening to a discussion held under the awning, as the yacht softly rose and fell upon the long pulsations of the calm sunlit sea, with the island lying ten or a dozen miles away.

"Of course, gentlemen," said the captain, "it is for you to decide. We are your servants, and your wish is our law."

"Well," said Sir John, "I am ready to speak apologetically to you, Bradleigh, for you cannot feel the interest in the place that we as naturalists do."

"Don't apologise, Sir John. Speak out and say what you feel."

"It is Doctor Instow's feeling too. We think that now we have reached here--thanks to you--"

"Only done what you wished, sir," said the captain bluntly.

"Well then, now that we have reached a place which teems with objects of interest, and which we have not half explored, it is a pity to leave it. What do you say, Jack? Shall we give it up?"

"Because a pack of senseless savages come and attack us? No, it would be cowardly," cried the lad.

"Poisoned arrows, spears, war canoes," said the doctor, with a queer look at Jack.

"Of course they are horrible," said the lad, flushing; "but perhaps we shall see no more of the blacks. Don't give it up, father."

"I should regret to have to do so, my boy, but mine is a very responsible position. I feel that I have to study others. I have no right to keep the officers and crew of this vessel where they are likely to encounter great risks."

"For the matter of that, sir," said the captain dryly, "those who go to sea look upon risks as a matter of course, and are rather disposed to think you landsmen run the most; eh, Bartlett? What do you say?"

"What, about the risk of staying here? Oh, I don't see any particular risk if we keep our eyes open, and are not sparing of the coal."

"Thank you, Mr Bartlett; but there are the men to study."

"Oh, you need not study about the men, Sir John," said the captain bluffly. "What do you say to that, Bartlett?"

"Study them, sir, no. They like it. They thoroughly enjoy the bit of excitement. If you put it to them you'll soon find which way they go."

"I should like to put it to them," said Sir John quietly.

"Have the lads all on deck," said the captain.

The hands were piped aft, and the captain waited for Sir John to speak, but he remained silent and looked at his son.

"Ask the men which they would prefer to do--stay here, or sail farther on account of the risks from the blacks."

Jack flushed a little, but he acquitted himself pretty well, and a hurried conversation went on for a few moments, ending in Lenny being put forward to answer, amidst a burst of cheering, which kept on breaking out again and again whenever the man essayed to speak, and at last he turned round angrily.

"Lookye here, mates," he cried, "hadn't you better come and say it yourselves? You've about cheered it out o' me, and made me forget what I meant to say."

"All right, matey," cried one of the men merrily, "let 'em have it; we've done now."

"Well, gentlemen," said Lenny, taking off his straw hat and looking in it as if the lost words had come through his skull to get hidden in the lining. "We all on us feels like this--as it wouldn't be English to let a lot o' lubbers o' niggers, who arn't got half a trouser to a whole hunderd on 'em, lick us out of the place. 'Sides, we arn't half seen the island yet, and 'bout ten on us has got a sort o' wager on as to who shall get up atop o' the mountain first and look down into the fire."

"Hear, hear, hear!" cried the men, and encouraged by this, Lenny began to wave his arm about and behave like a semaphore signalling to distant crews in his excitement.

"You see, gentlemen, we say it seems foolishness to come all this way to find what you wants, and then let these black warmint scare us off; when we arn't scared a bit, are we, mates?"

"No," came in a roar.

"So that's about all, gentlemen. We like the place and we're very comfor'ble, and if it's all the same to you, we'd like to stop and go fishing and shooting and storing; and--and--and--that's all, arn't it, mates?"

"Hooray! Well done, Billy," shouted the man who had tried to be funny before.

"Thank you, my lads," said Sir John, "and I hope you will have to run no more risks."

"Don't you say that, sir," cried Lenny; "we likes a bit o' fun sometimes; it's like pickles and hot sauce to our reg'lar meat."

"Ay, ay, mate, that's so," cried another, and there was another cheer, followed by the joking man stepping out before his companions to say quite seriously--

"And some on us, sir, think as you might hoist the British colours atop o' the mountain, and when we go back for you to go and give the island to the Queen."

"We'll think about all that," said Sir John. "Then my son and I understand that you are quite willing to stay in spite of the risk?"

"O' course, sir," said Lenny. "We'll go with you anywheres; won't we, mates?"

A burst of cheers greeted this speech, and Sir John said that they would stay in spite of all the canoes which might come. _

Read next: Chapter 28. Taken By Surprise

Read previous: Chapter 26. A Poisoned Arrow

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