"Now be good boys and don't fight while I'm gone." _Bang_! A book off the table, flung by Smith, struck the door which I was holding half open, for I saw the missile coming, and dodged it. Then I popped my head in again. "Don't take any notice of him, Tanner," I cried; "he's bilious. Thankye for sticking up for me. Can I say a word for you to the captain?" "Here, get up," cried Smith, with a snarl. "Touch your hat to him. He's promoted; and they'll send poor old Brooke a step lower. All hail, Lieutenant Skeeter!" "All right!" I cried, and I hurried away, leaving Barkins looking as if he could not believe his ears. The next minute I was facing the captain and Mr Reardon. CHAPTER THIRTY. A FRESH START. "Mr Herrick," said the captain, as I saluted, "I have decided that, as you know so much about this business, you shall go with Mr Brooke in one of the boats; but I wish you to observe what I say: the success of our expedition depends a great deal upon secrecy, so do not chatter anything about your mission in the hearing of the men." "No, sir, certainly not," I said, wondering what the mission might be, and whether we were going to cut out the junks. "That's right; you had better take the interpreter with you." "To search for the junks, sir?" "Hush; guard your tongue, sir. You are ostensibly going up the river with Mr Brooke upon a little shooting expedition for wild-fowl, so get rid of your uniform. I daresay we can lend him a gun, Mr Reardon?" "If he'll take care of it, he can have mine, sir," said Mr Reardon. "Then off with you, my lad, and be as observant as you can. Mr Brooke will tell you, I daresay, all about his instructions." I saluted, and darted away in time to see that Smith had been watching me, for he drew back as I approached, and I found him standing by where Barkins sat, looking exceedingly glum. I daresay it was very petty, but Smith had been so malicious, and had so often made himself disagreeable, that I could not help feeling a delicious sensation of triumph as I bustled into the cabin and rushed to my locker, without taking any notice whatever of Smith, while I felt sorry for big burly Barkins, who I felt would not say an unkind word if it were not for Smith's influence. I remember Charles Dickens saying in one of his tales something about it being hard enough to live with any one who had a bad temper in a large house, but to be shut up with the said person in a cart or travelling van was terrible. Of course I am not giving his exact words, only making the allusion to illustrate the fact that it is quite as bad to exist with an ill-tempered person in the small cabin of a vessel at sea. For you may depend upon it there is no better--or worse--way of finding out a companion's peculiarities than that.