The Black Bar Part 13

"Well, I'm not quite sure about how long it was, for the sun made me so giddy. I had to lash myself to the mast, or I should have taken a dive overboard; and my head grew muddly. But it was an awful long time. My eye! how the men whistled!"

"For wind?"

"Yes; and the more they whistled the more it didn't come. Old Maitland was in a taking, and it wasn't safe to speak to Staples. I say, Van, old chap, he came right up to the cross-trees himself and told me I didn't know how to use a spy-gla.s.s. He said the boat with you fellows in lay just due east, and that he could make it out directly."

"And did he?"

"No; he just didn't; and then, after trying for half an hour, he said mine was a wretchedly poor weak gla.s.s, and came down again. You see, the skipper and old Staples were mad about losing the schooner, and just wild about leaving the boat behind and going on so far before coming back to pick you up.

"Of course, they couldn't tell that the wind would drop so suddenly,"

said Mark. "Well, you caught sight of us at last?"

"Look here, friend of my boyhood, do you want to finish this authentic narrative?"

"No, I don't. Go on."

"Then hold your tongue. I do like that, you saying what a tongue I've got. Spikes and spun yarn! It's about nothing to yours. There, I won't keep you longer in suspense, as my old aunt used to say. After the crew had whistled the air quite full, it all condensed and turned into a breeze--on the third evening, I think it was, and I mast-headed myself again, and there was another man sent up to the fore-masthead."

"I beg your pardon," said Mark, with a feeble smile upon his thin face.

"I said another man was sent up to look-out. I'm afraid that the exposure and fasting have affected your hearing a little, my son. But to go back to our muttons, as the French say. The breeze came on just right from the south-east, and we soon had plenty of sail on, and made some good big tacks; but it came on dark without our having got a squint of you; and that night once more my supper spoilt my rest, and every one else's disagreed with him. For the crew were on deck all night, walking about uncomfortable, and the worst of it was old Whitney's prescriptions didn't do any one a bit of good."

"Of course," said Mark, thoughtfully. "It must have been a terrible time of anxiety for the officers."

"Oh, I don't know," said Bob, coolly. "It was a nuisance, for that first cutter was always considered our fastest boat. Well, to proceed.

Next day, when the sun was hot enough to fry salt junk, someone caught sight of the boat lying like a speck on the glittering water."

"Who did?" cried Mark, eagerly.

"Who did?" replied Bob, thoughtfully. "Let me see. I half--Dear me now, who--How strange! It must have been somebody, because the s.h.i.+p's head was altered, and--Now how curious it is that I can't think who it was sighted the boat!"

"I know," said Mark. "You did, Bob."

"Oh, I say, doctor!"

"Did I?" said that young gentleman, scratching his head. "Well, now you say so, I think it was Robert Howlett, Esquire, with the spy-gla.s.s old Staples abused so, and a pretty row there was went on below on deck.

The chaps were half mad, and were dancing about the planks, and all bubbling over with excitement, as they tried to get a peep at you. And when--oh, my!--we did at last come up to you, a nice pretty respectable lot you looked, lying about in the boat, with no more discipline than you'd see in a shoal of seals on a rock. You looked as if you had all been pitched in anyhow, and--_gug_!"

"Why, Bob! what's the matter, old chap?"

Mark turned to gaze on the convulsed face, and just obtained one glance before it was turned away. For Bob's voice had suddenly changed from its light, half-cynical, playful tone. There was a sudden choking as if something had come in his throat; and as Mark read his feelings thoroughly stole a thin, feeble hand into his, and whispered softly, "Oh, Bob, old chap!" the face was turned sharply back at him, and its owner burst out in a half-whimpering, half-angry way:

"Well, so would you if you'd seen it. Even iron Staples pretty nearly broke down. It was just horrid. Didn't seem to be a bit of life in any one of you but Tom Fillot, and he couldn't have cut a joke to save his life. As for you, I wouldn't have given a penny more for you than the worth of your uniform, and that was all shrunk. You looked--"

"How will he look to-morrow, Mr Howlett?" cried a sharp voice, that of the doctor. "So this is the way you keep watch over a patient, is it, sir? He was getting better, and now my work's all undone again. I expect you've killed him."

"Silence!" cried that gentleman, feeling Mark's pulse. "Yes, of course.

Fever greatly increased. Hush, not a word, Vandean. Lie perfectly still. I ought to have been told that you had fully recovered your consciousness. Now, Mr Howlett, you had better be off."

"No, sir; don't send me away. I'll be so careful in future."

"I can't trust you, my lad."

"You may indeed now, sir. It was all with being so glad that poor Vandean's better."

"Glad! Why, you looked sorry. There, then, if you promise to be very quiet, you may stay. Vandean, he must not talk to you, and you must hardly say a word. I'll go and get you a little draught."

The doctor left the mids.h.i.+pman's quarters, and as he departed Bob made a gesture suggestive of kicking him before returning to his seat beside his messmate.

"Tell me, Bob," whispered Mark.

"No; mustn't speak."

"Only this. Did everyone--was everyone--"

Mark stopped short.

"You're not to talk while you're so weak. Now then, what do you want to know? Did any one die?"

"Yes."

Bob nodded his head, and a pang shot through Mark as he thought of the handsome young lieutenant, and the frank, manly fellows who had formed their crew.

He closed his eyes, and a feeling of weak misery choked his utterance.

He would have given anything for the power to question his companion, and learn for certain who were living of the party; for the idea had in his weakness become now a certainty, that though he had seemed to hear that Mr Russell was recovering, he it was who had died.

At last the power to think returned, and he turned his wan, pain-drawn face to Bob.

"Tell me," he whispered.

"No, sir, nothing," cried the doctor. "Here, I have brought you the little draught myself, so as to see that it is taken properly. I don't know why I should have so much trouble over a pack of lads who are more worry than they are worth. Why, bless my heart, Mr Vandean, you are going backward. Here, Mr Howlett, go to my quarters and send my fellow here."

CHAPTER TEN.

IN THE DOCTOR'S CLUTCHES.

It was the next day, and, in spite of wind-sails and open ports, hotter than ever. The _Nautilus_ was back off the Palm River, lying at anchor, waiting as usual for news which might end in a more successful expedition than the last, for the nefarious traffic was still being carried on just under the nose of Her Majesty's little cruiser, in spite of every effort to catch the cunning skippers who set the officers at defiance.

Mark opened his eyes after a long, refres.h.i.+ng sleep, for Bob Howlett had contrived to keep the cabin comparatively cool; and as soon as the lads'

eyes met, the sick middy's thoughts went back to the last conversation they had held.

"Bob," he whispered.

That young gentleman held up his hand.

"Only a word or two and I'll be quiet."