Part 41 (1/2)

”No! No water.”

”Well, what is it?”

”I only wanted to say something, Frank,” whispered the poor fellow, in a faltering voice.

”Better not, old chap. You want rest, and not to bother your brain with talking.”

”Thank you, doctor,” said the lad, with a faint smile. ”Why, you're ever so much better than old Reston. Yes, I want sleep, for my head seems to be all of a buzz; but I must say something before I can get off.”

”Well, then, look sharp and say it. Well, what is it?”

”Only this, Franky, old fellow--”

”Well, what is it?” said Murray, after the pause which followed the last words. ”There, let it go; I'm sure it will keep.”

”No, no,” whispered the lad excitedly. ”It won't keep. I feel as if I can't bear to say it, and yet that I can't bear to keep it back. There, that sounds half mad, doesn't it? I--I--”

”Is it anything to do with what you said to me a bit ago?”

”Hah! Thank you, old fellow; you've made me feel as if I could say it now,” whispered the lad hoa.r.s.ely. ”Franky, I feel as if I've been an ungrateful beast to you.”

”Hold hard, d.i.c.k,” said Murray quickly; and he laid his hand upon the one lying close to the edge of the cot. ”I understand how hard it must be for you to talk about it, and it's just as hard for me to listen. So look here, d.i.c.k. You haven't been yourself, lad; when a fellow's a bit off his head he isn't accountable for what he says. I know; so look here. Am I hurt and annoyed by what you said? Not a bit of it. That's right, isn't it?” he continued, as his hand closed firmly upon that of the half hysterical lad. ”You know what that means, don't you?”

”Hah! Yes!” sighed the lad gently; and it sounded to Murray as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off the poor fellow's breast.

”Then now you can go to sleep, and when you wake up again I hope you will have forgotten all about it, for that's what I mean to as a matter of course, and--How rum!” said the lad to himself, for the hand that had been returning his pressure had slowly slackened its grasp and lay perfectly inert in his. ”Why, he must be asleep! Well, I shall soon know.”

As the lad thought this he loosened his own grasp, and the next minute was able to slip his fingers away. Directly after he drew back a little more, and quietly rose from the locker upon which he had been seated close to his companion's side with his back to the cabin stairs.

Then turning to go up on deck, Murray started to find himself face to face with the doctor, who had followed the lads down and stepped in without being heard.

”Asleep?”

Murray pointed to the occupant of the cot without a word, and the doctor bent low and then drew back.

”That's good,” he whispered. ”It was a nasty shock for the poor fellow, but there's nothing for me to do, my lad. A few hours' sleep will quite set him right. I like this, though, Murray,” he continued, laying his hand upon the lad's shoulder and giving it a friendly grip. ”You boys are thoughtless young dogs sometimes, but this sort of thing shows that you have got the right stuff in you--the right feeling for one another.”

”Oh, I say, doctor, don't!” whispered Murray.

”Not going to, much,” said the gentleman addressed. ”I'm a rough fellow sometimes, I know, but I notice a deal, and I like to see a bit of feeling shown at the right moment. You don't know how it pleases me when one of our foremast fellows has been laid aside, and I see that a messmate has sneaked down to keep him company, and take care that he is not short of tobacco to chew--Hang him for trying to poison a man who would be far better without it!--Yes, looks as guilty as can be, and quite shamefaced at having been caught playing the nurse. It shows that the dog has got the true man in him, Murray, and though I don't let them see that I notice anything I like it more than you think. There, Roberts is all right,” said the doctor gruffly, ”but don't stop here breathing up the cool air I want for my patient. Come on deck, my lad; come on deck.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

”n.i.g.g.aH, SAH.”

A month pa.s.sed swiftly away, during which the _Seafowl_ sighted and chased vessel after vessel, each of which had been forced to lie to in response to a shot fired across her bows, but only with a disappointing result--one which sent the captain into a temper which made him dangerous to approach for a full half-hour after the strangers' papers had been examined, to prove that she had nothing whatever to do with the slave-trade.

Then the captain would calm down, and something like the following would take place: