Dick Cheveley Part 19

"He has eaten enough now," said Tom; "but, I say, Mark," he whispered, "you keep an eye on him whenever you can, so that none of the fellows play him any tricks. They'd do so, though they knew he was dying, out of devilry."

"Aye, aye," answered Mark. "They shan't hurt the poor young chap if I can help it, though I've enough to do to keep clear of them myself."

"Well, we shall be three now, and shall be better able to stand up against them," said Tom.

I heard no more; for after taking the food a drowsiness crept over me, and I fell into a sound sleep. When I awoke I was in the dark, and felt very much more comfortable than I had for a long time. At first I fancied that I was down in the hold, but the loud snoring and groaning of the men in the neighbouring bunks made me remember what had happened.

I felt about, and was soon convinced that I was in Tom Trivett's bunk, in a clean s.h.i.+rt and trousers, and a blanket over me. I heard the watch below turn out, the others shortly afterwards came in, but no one took any notice of me.

When the latter were fast asleep I heard some one come into the berth and stop near my bunk.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Glad to see you can speak again, my lad," said the person whom by his voice I knew to be Tom Trivett. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes, thank you," I answered. "You've saved my life, and I'm very grateful to you."

"Don't talk o' that, lad," he said, "it's not much good I can do in the world, but I couldn't bear to see you allowed to die from neglect, though I'm afraid there are hard times coming for you. You're among as rough a lot as ever sailed on the salt ocean, and that's saying a good deal. I want to give you a piece of advice; I mayn't have another chance of giving it. Don't be in a great hurry to get well, for though the fellows, bad as they are, won't have the cruelty to ill-treat you while you're sick, as soon as you come round they'll be down upon you, and you'll find that they'll give you more kicks than ha'pence.

However, you must not mind them. Don't attempt to retaliate, for they're too many for you. Above all things don't grow sulky as poor Mark did, and has ever since well-nigh had his life knocked out of him.

Now I must go on deck as it's my watch, but remember what I have said."

I again thanked Tom, and just as he was going I asked him if he could get me any more food.

"I'll try and get you something as soon as the cook turns out; but he's asleep in his bunk, and at this hour it would be a difficult job to find any. I'll tell Mark, however, to ask him when he wakes, though I'd advise you to go off to sleep again."

Saying this, Tom left the berth, and I once more closed my eyes. I was awakened by the men turning out.

The light streamed in at the door, showing me that it was morning. In consequence of the advice I received from Tom, I kept quiet and pretended to be asleep. Soon afterwards I saw Mark Riddle standing by my side.

"Tom told me you're hungry, boy," he said; "so I managed to get something for you from the pantry. I hope it won't be discovered, or the third mate will be giving me a rope's-ending."

He had brought me a captain's biscuit and a slice of ham, with a tin mug of water.

"I'll bring you a cup of hot coffee," he said, handing me the food.

Hungry as I was I could not help exclaiming, "What, don't you know me, Mark?"

He looked at me very hard, still not remembering me.

"No, I don't think I ever saw you before," he answered; "but how do you happen to know my name?"

"I didn't think I was so changed," I said. "I'm d.i.c.k Cheveley."

"d.i.c.k Cheveley!" he cried out, looking at me still harder; "d.i.c.k Cheveley on board this s.h.i.+p! And yet it must be; and are you really d.i.c.k Cheveley?"

"I don't believe I'm anybody else, though I have sometimes fancied I must be."

"Yes, yes, I see you're Master Cheveley," cried Mark, "though I can't say I feel much happier to see you for your own sake, though I'm right glad for mine to have you with me," taking my hand and grasping it.

"Oh, Master Cheveley, what did bring you aboard?"

I briefly told him while I was discussing the food he brought me.

"It's a bad business for you, Master d.i.c.k," he said; "but the only thing now to be done is to make the best of it. They're a precious bad lot, and the captain and officers are no better. I've made up my mind to run as soon as I can, and I'd advise you to do the same."

"That I certainly will when I have somewhere to run to, but at present it seems we should have to run overboard," I answered.

"We must wait until we get into harbour. We shall have to touch at a good many places, and if we keep our wits about us we shall manage it one way or another."

"We'll talk about that by-and-by, but tell me how you happened to be here. I heard that you had been sent on board a man-of-war," I said.

"So I was, and I wish I had remained aboard her, too; but as I had been sent against my will, I cut and run on the first chance I got. She was the 'Beagle' sloop of war. We were ordered to cruise on the Irish coast. We were not far off the town of Belfast, when a boat's crew to which I belonged pulled ash.o.r.e under charge of a mid-s.h.i.+pmite. While he went into a house to deliver a message, I ran off as fast as my legs could carry me. I at last reached a cottage in which there was a whiteheaded old fellow, a girl, and two young men. I told them that I had been pressed and ill-treated, and was trying to make my escape from the cruelty of the English. The young men said at once that they would protect me, and would answer that I should not be retaken. The old man warned them that they were playing a dangerous game, and said that he would have nothing to do with the business, advising them to take me back to the boat. The girl, however, pleaded for me, and observed that now I had run, my punishment would be ten times greater, and that it would be cruel and inhospitable to refuse me shelter. She prevailed on her old grandfather. That evening the young men took me down aboard a little 'hooker,' which they said was just going to sail for Liverpool, and that if I liked I could go in her. Her cargo, they said, was timber and fruit, but turned out to be f.a.ggots and potatoes. I knew that at Liverpool there was no chance of being discovered, and I at once agreed.

We reached the Mersey in a couple of days. As ill-luck would have it, I landed close to where the 'Emu' was getting ready for sea. Knowing that I could not venture to return home, I went on board and asked if a boy was wanted. The first mate at once said yes, as one of the apprentices had cut and run and could not be found. I thought I was in good luck, but we hadn't been to sea many days before I found that I had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. The other apprentice, poor Jack Drage, told me that he had been kicked and cuffed from the first moment that he had stepped on board, and that if he had had any friends on sh.o.r.e, he'd have taken French leave as the other had done. Things had grown worse instead of better, and he was already weary of his life.

I advised him not to give in; that in time things must mend; but he was a poor-hearted fellow and only wrung his hands and cried, declaring that he was utterly miserable. I did my best to keep up his spirits, but it was all of no use. One night during a gale we had soon after sailing, he disappeared. Whether he had thrown himself overboard into the sea, or been knocked overboard no one could tell. Of course it was entered in the log that he had been knocked overboard. In my opinion he sacrificed his life rather than endure his miseries. I told the first mate so, and he knocked me down. The next time he called me a sulky rascal, but I answered that I was not going to do away with myself like Jack Drage, and that I would make a complaint of him to the British Consul whenever we touched at a port. On this he knocked me down again.

I know that I was taken with the sulks, and for days afterwards didn't speak to him or any one else; but as I had no wish to be killed, I did what I was ordered to do, and got on somewhat better. Ever since that not a day pa.s.ses that I don't get a kick or have a marline-spike hove at my head by either the officers or men forward. They're all very much alike for that matter, except Tom Trivett, and he's as good a fellow as ever lived. He has a hard life of it, for the men are always playing him tricks; and the officers spite him, and are constantly making him do dirty jobs which no able seaman should be called on to perform. But, I say, I mustn't stand talking here any longer, or I shall be suspected of being your friend. Don't let any one find out that we know each other, and we shall get on all the better. I'll tell Tom Trivett, and he'll bring you the coffee if I can't manage it; meanwhile you stay quiet in the bunk, even if you feel well enough to get up."

"There is no chance of my being able to do that for some days," I answered, "for I don't think I could stand if I were to try."

Mark now left me, and I fell back nearly exhausted from having talked so long to him.

After some time Tom appeared with a basin of hot black coffee, with some biscuit floating in it.

"Can't I have a little milk?" I asked.

"We've not any cows on board here," he answered with a laugh; "and there are no dairies in the Atlantic, unless Daddy Neptune happens to keep sea-cows."

"You must have thought me very silly to ask for milk," I said, as I ate up the sopped biscuit, and drank the hot coffee, which was well sweetened with sugar.

"It shows you are something of a greenhorn, lad," he answered, laughing, "but no wonder your wits aren't of the brightest after having been shut up in the dark so long; you shall have something else by-and-by.

Remember what I told you; don't be getting well too soon, that's all."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

My convalescence--Julius Caesar befriends me--We pa.s.s the Cape de Verde Islands--Our hopes of a change of diet disappear--My turn at last--A severe discipline--Captain Longfleet--"Please, sir, I couldn't help it"--"There goes the baby and his nurse"--Caesar's sympathy--How I owed my life to Tom Trivett--Bad food--"It makes me sick to cook it"--The deputation to the captain--The discontent increases among the crew--Crossing the line--"What s.h.i.+p is that?"--We receive a visit from Daddy Neptune and his court--Rough play, and what it might have come to.

I intended to take the advice of my friend and not get well too soon, but in reality there was no malingering in the case, for I remained too low and weak to get out of my bed.

Tom Trivett all the time, having given up his berth to me, slept in a far more uncomfortable bunk right forward, but never uttered a word of complaint, or tried to induce me to turn out. His was true Samaritan charity, and I was grateful to him. He even, I knew, tried to influence the rest of the crew for good, but did not succeed. They let him alone, which was all he could expect of them. The third mate, who knew I was there, never came near me to inquire how I was getting on.

Mark paid me a visit whenever he could venture to do so, and brought me my food when Tom was on duty.

The only other man who was kind to me was Julius Caesar, the black cook, and he frequently sent me wholesome messes which he had concocted for my special benefit; but he had to charge Mark and Tom not to let the other men see them, lest they should be gobbled up on their way. Mark told me this, for Julius Caesar himself never came to have a look at me.

"If I come, den dey say I friend of his--it worse for him."

Both Mark and Caesar slept in the larboard berth, so that they had no business in the one I occupied.

I should explain that the s.p.a.ce under the topgallant forecastle was divided by a bulkhead running fore and aft into parts forming separate cabins, one called the starboard, and the other the larboard berths, with bunks built up on both sides, one above another, or rather, in two stories, to explain myself better.