"Gammon!" growled the boatswain. "You knew it warn't all the time. Come on." He led the way to his locker and took out a couple of square reel-frames with their cord, hooks, and sinkers complete. "Ketch hold," he said gruffly, and then giving Poole a tin box which rattled loudly, he growled out, "Plenty of spare hooks in there. But don't lose more than you can help. Where are you going to fish? Off the taffrail?" "No; out of the stern-window." "What! How are you going to haul in your fish?" "Oh, I don't know." "See what a mess you'll make, my lad." "I'll clean up afterwards," said Poole. "I don't believe you will get any. If you hook one you'll knock it off in pulling it in. Why don't you bring the poor lad up on deck and let him fish like a human being, not keep him cuddled up below there like a great gal?" "But he's so weak, he can hardly stand." "Set him down, then, in a cheer. Do him good, and he'll like it all the more." "Well, I never thought of that," said Poole eagerly. "I will. But oh, I mustn't forget the bait. I must go and see the Camel." "Nonsense! Bait with a lask cut off from the first fish you catch." "Of course," cried Poole; "but how am I to catch that first one first?" "'M, yes," said the boatswain, with a grim smile. "Tell you what; go and ask the Camel to give you a nice long strip of salt pork, fat and rind." "Ah, that would do," cried Poole; and he hurried off to the galley, where he was welcomed by the cook with a nod and wink, as he drew a little stew-pan forward on the hot plate, and lifted the lid. "Joost cast your nose over that, laddie," he whispered mysteriously. "Eh? What for?" "It's the middy laddie's soup fresh made, joost luvely." "Oh yes, splendid," said the lad, and he hurriedly stated his wants, had them supplied, and went back to the cabin ready to prepare for catching the first fish. "Look here, Burnett," he said, "it'll be very awkward fishing out of this window. How'd it be if I put a cane-chair close up under the rail? Don't you think you could manage if I helped you up there?" "I don't know. I am afraid I couldn't walk," said the boy dubiously. "I'd try." "Oh, never mind about your walking! If you'll come I'll run up and put a chair ready, and then come back for you. I could carry you easily enough if I got you on my back." One moment Fitz had been looking bright and eager; the next a gloomy shade was passing over his face. "Like a sack," he said bitterly. "Well, then, shall I make two of the lads carry you in a chair?" "No," said the boy, brightening up again. "If I put my arm over your shoulder, and you get one round my waist, I think I could manage it if we went slowly." "To be sure," cried Poole, and he hurried on deck, thrust a long cane reclining chair into the place he thought most suitable, and had just finished when his father came up. "What are you about, boy?" he said; and Poole explained.