Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Juvenile fiction; Midshipmen -- Juvenile fiction
"Pretty well right again. Come up. Have the glass. You can see
another island astern, one of the little ones, and I think we are going
to have one of these lovely tropic sunsets, same as we had last night
when you wouldn't come and see it."
"How can a fellow situated as I am care for sunsets?"
"Just in the same way as he can care for sunrises if he's awake early
enough. Oh, do pitch all that up! It has all gone by. But I see how
it is. You think that you made a mistake, and that everybody will be
ready to laugh at you."
"And so they will," cried Fitz passionately. "I can never show my face
on deck again."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Poole. "Well, you are a rum chap, fancying a thing
like that. Why, my father's too much of a gentleman ever to notice it
again, and I'm sure old grumpy Burgess wouldn't, from what he said to me
when I was telling him all about it afterwards."
"What!" cried Fitz, flashing out. "You went down tale-bearing to the
mate like that?"
"There you go again! I didn't go tale-bearing. He'd heard about it
from one of the men, and next time I took him his quinine he began
questioning me."
"And what did he say?" cried Fitz fiercely.
"Shan't tell you."
"What!" cried Fitz. "And you profess to be my friend!"
"Yes; that's why I won't tell you," said Poole, with his eyes twinkling.
"I want to spare your feelings, or else it will make you so wild."
"The insolent piratical old scoundrel!" cried Fitz. "How dare he!"
"Oh, don't ask me. He's a regular rough one with his tongue, as you
know by the way in which he deals with the men; gives the dad the raspy
side of his palaver sometimes, but dad never seems to mind it. He never
takes any notice, because Burgess means right, and he's such a splendid
seaman."
"Means right!" cried Fitz angrily. "Is it right to abuse a prisoner
behind his back when he's not in a position to defend himself?"
"Yes, it was too bad," said Poole sympathetically.
"What did he say?"
"Oh, you had better not know," replied Poole, winking to himself.
"I insist upon your telling me."
"Oh, well, if you will have it--only don't blame me afterwards for
letting it out."
"What did he say?" repeated the boy.
"It was while he had got a very bad fit of the shivers on, and the poor
fellow's teeth were all of a chatter with the fever."
"I think your teeth seem to be all of a chatter," snarled the midshipman
fiercely.
"Ha, ha! You are a wonderful deal better, Queen's man," cried Poole
merrily.
"Have you come down here like the rest to insult and trample on me?"
cried Fitz, springing to his feet.
"Ah, now you are getting yourself again."
"I insist upon your telling me what that man Burgess said."
"What he said? Well, he said you were a plucked 'un and no mistake."
"Bah!" ejaculated Fitz, and there was silence for a few moments, during
which Poole thrust his head out of the cabin-window to give his
companion time to calm down.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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