Part 50 (1/2)

”Nonsense! It was a hint for both.”

”No. He has taken a fancy to you. He told me himself he had, and that it was his doing that you got up your strength so quickly.”

”Oh, gammon!” cried Fitz petulantly.

”No, it was what he calls his pheesic. He told me that when a man was in bad health--crenky, he called it--that the thing to pull him round was soup; and you know how he was always scheming something of the kind for you. I shouldn't like to a.n.a.lyse too strictly what he made it of.”

”Why, meat, of course,” cried the middy. ”I don't know,” said Poole dryly. ”You see, it's not like being ash.o.r.e; but you had soup pretty well every day, and you said yourself that it tasted all right. But it doesn't matter. It did you good.”

”Don't you think we had better change the subject?” said Fitz sharply.

”Yes; and we'll go up aloft again. Coming?”

”Of course,” was the reply.

They turned back to go aft towards the mainmast-shrouds, Don Ramon's followers making room for them to pa.s.s; but as they reached the part of the deck where they were going to ascend, they came upon the boatswain looking as black as thunder.

”Hullo, b.u.t.ters! Anything the matter?” said Poole. ”Matter!” growled the copper-faced old fellow. ”Look at my deck--I mean, as much of it as you can see. I am pretty nigh sick of this! A set of jabbering monkeys; that's about what they are.”

”Up aloft again, Poole?” cried the skipper. ”Just going,” was the reply, and giving up his place by the starboard main-shrouds to Fitz, the lad ran across the deck to the port side, where he began to ascend, the pair meeting at the masthead upon equal terms. ”Here, I'd give up the gla.s.s to you,” cried Poole, ”but father mightn't like it, though your eyes are as sharp or sharper than mine. I'll give one sweep round and report to the deck, and then you shall have a turn.”

Poole pa.s.sed his arm round a stay and raised the gla.s.s to his eyes, while Fitz took a turn round the rope with one leg, and waited, thinking.

”Isn't such a bad fellow,” he said to himself, as he watched the captain's son, ”but he's getting a little too familiar. He seems to forget sometimes that I'm an officer; but there, it doesn't much matter, and it won't last long.”

”Well, my lad?” came from the deck.

”All clear, father,” was the reply, and as Fitz glanced down he saw Don Ramon place the cigarette he was holding between his teeth and clap his hands, while from his crowd of followers who were looking on there ascended a loud _Viva_!

And the hot day glided on.

There was a fair breeze, and the schooner fairly danced over the laughing waters, sending shoals of flying-fish skimming out before them, with their wing-like fins glistening like those of gigantic dragon-flies, before they dropped back into the sea.

Rations were served out to the eager crowd, and a buzz of conversation was kept up, to ascend to the two lads, who spent most of their time aloft, watching, talking, and comparing notes about what a peaceful time it seemed and how strange a contrast to the excitement of the previous day and night.

”It's too good to be true, my lads,” said the skipper quietly, as the afternoon glided by. ”We have made such a splendid run that it isn't reasonable to expect fortune will favour us much farther.”

”Ah, you think that?” said Don Ramon, who came up rolling a fresh cigarette.

”Yes, sir, I do. In another hour we shall be round that headland, and in sight of Velova if the mate keeps us clear of that long reef of rocks which guards the bay.”

”Ah, and then you think Villarayo will be waiting for us with his men?”

”Oh no,” said the skipper; ”I can't say for certain, but I should doubt whether he has found out as yet that we are gone. I feel certain now that he would not stir till all his reinforcements had reached him.”

”That is right,” said the Don eagerly, ”and even then--I know our people well--they will fight bravely twice, but it is very hard to move them again. But you spoke as if you _were_ in doubt. What is it you expect?”

”I expect, sir, that as soon as we get round that headland we shall see the gunboat waiting for us, and ready to open fire. And once she gets well within range--”

Reed stopped. ”Yes, what then?” cried Don Ramon eagerly. The skipper shrugged his shoulders. ”What can we do, sir, with my schooner crowded up like this?”

”Fly,” said the Don, with his eyes flas.h.i.+ng. ”Of course; there is nothing else to be done. But if they have decent men to work that gun, one well-placed shot or sh.e.l.l will wreck my rigging, and we shall lie like a wounded bird upon the water.”