Jack at Sea: All Work and No Play Made Him a Dull BoyFenn, George Manville
History
Jack at Sea: All Work and No Play Made Him a Dull Boy
Fenn, George Manville
Adventure stories; Natural history -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
"Well then, crawl. Here, steward!" cried the doctor, "come and help
this man to his cabin."
"Can't you give me something to put me out of my misery, sir?" groaned
the man.
"Absurd! There, try and get on your legs. I'll help you." For the
steward had come in promptly, smiling at the state of affairs, and poor
Edward was set upon his legs.
"Come, stand up," said the steward, for Edward's knees gave way like the
joints of a weak two-foot rule.
"Yes, stand up," cried the doctor; "don't be so weak, man."
"'Tain't me, sir, it's my legs," said the man faintly. "Don't seem to
have no bones now."
"Why, Edward, I thought you were a smart manly fellow," cried the
doctor.
"That's just what I always thought of myself, sir, but it wasn't a bit
true. Would you mind asking Sir John, sir, to have the yacht stopped
and me put ashore?"
"Of course I would. It's absurd."
"But I shan't be a bit of use, sir; I shan't indeed. I'm ashamed of
myself, but I can't help it."
"There, I know," said the doctor kindly; "get to your berth and lie
still for a few hours. You'll be ready to laugh at your weakness before
long."
"Laugh, sir? laugh? No, I don't think I shall ever laugh again."
The door swung to after the man's exit, and the doctor returned to
Jack's cabin.
"Well," he said, "feel very queer?"
"Can't you see, doctor?" said the boy, giving him a piteous look.
"Yes, of course I can, my lad; but lie still, and you'll soon get over
it. Some people do get troubled this way. Haven't you read that Lord
Nelson used to have a fit whenever he went to sea?"
Jack made no reply, for he was in that condition which makes a sufferer
perfectly indifferent about everything and everybody, and when it is no
satisfaction to know that the greatest people in the world suffered in a
similar way. All they can think of then is self.
Sir John came down soon after, and sat with his son for awhile, trying
to encourage him, but poor Jack hardly answered him, and at last he
began to be anxious, and went to join the doctor, who was on deck
chatting with the captain.
"I wish you'd go down and see to the boy," he said; "he looks so white,
I feel anxious."
The doctor shrugged his shoulders and went below, to come back at the
end of five minutes.
"Well?" said Sir John anxiously.
"Usual thing; nothing to fidget about. Your man's worse."
"What, Edward?" cried Sir John, staring. "I saw him forward there
chatting with the sailors not long ago."
"Yes, and now he's in his berth talking to himself about what a donkey
he was to come. Who knows! perhaps it will be our turn next."
But it was not, although it began to blow hard from the west, and the
sea crew rougher as the yacht dashed on.
But the next evening Edward was about again, looking rather pale, but
very proud and self-satisfied, as he went to Jack's berth.
"Don't you feel any better yet, sir?" he said.
"No; can't you see how ill I am?" replied Jack faintly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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