"I want," cried Fitz excitedly, and his cheeks flushed and eyes flashed--"I want you, sir," he repeated, "now that you say I'm better and fit to get about--" "On deck," said the skipper dryly. "Oh yes, and anywhere as soon as this giddiness has passed off... I want you now, sir, to set me ashore." "Hah! Yes," said the skipper slowly. "I knew we were coming to that." "Why, of course, sir. Think of what I must have suffered and felt." "I thought Poole here had done his best to make you comfortable, my lad." "Oh yes, and he has, sir," cried the boy, turning to look full in his attendant's eyes. "He has been a splendid fellow, sir. Nobody could have been kinder to me than he has, even at my worst times, when I was so ill and irritable that I behaved to him like a surly brute." "It's your turn now, Poole," growled the skipper, "to say `Thank you' for that." "But you must feel, sir, how anxious and worried I must be--how eager to get back to my ship. In another day or two, Captain Reed, I shall be quite well enough to go. Promise me, sir, that you will set me ashore." The skipper had pursed up his lips as if he were going to whistle for the wind, and he turned his now frowning face to look steadfastly at his son, who met his eyes with a questioning gaze, while the midshipman looked anxiously from one to the other, as if seeking to catch an encouraging look which failed to come. At last the boy broke the silence again, trying to speak firmly; but, paradoxically, weakness was too strong, and his voice sounded cracked as he cried, almost pitifully-- "Oh, Captain Reed! Promise me you will now set me ashore!" The skipper was silent for a few moments, before turning his face slowly to meet the appealing look in the boy's eyes. "Set you ashore?" he said gruffly. "Yes, sir, please. Pray do!" And the answer came-- "Where, my boy? Where?" CHAPTER ELEVEN. THOUGHTS OF HOME. Fitz Burnett looked wonderingly at the skipper as if he did not comprehend the bearings of the question. "Where?" he faltered. "Yes; you asked me to set you ashore. I say, where?" "Oh, at any American or English port, sir." "Do you know how far we are from the nearest?" "No; I have no idea how far we have come." "Never mind that," said the skipper gravely. "Let's take it from another way of thinking. Do you know what it means for me to set you ashore at some port?" "Oh yes, sir: that I shall be able to communicate with any English vessel, and get taken back to Liverpool." "Well," said the skipper grimly, "you are a young sailor, but I am afraid that you have very small ideas about the size of the world. I dare say, though, that would be possible, sooner or later, for you go to very few ports now-a-days without coming across a ship flying British colours. It would be all right for you; but what about me?" Fitz looked at him wonderingly again. "What about you, sir?" he stammered. "I was not thinking about you, but about myself."