Jack smiled and began to rub his shoulder, so the tackle was hung in loops to dry, and the lad went forward to watch the flying fish spin out of the water and glide along upon their transparent wing-like fins; and he returned to watch the beautiful little creatures again and again as, evidently taking the hull of the yacht for some huge pursuing fish, they darted up from under her counter to drop back far away after their forced journey, and swim on till they gathered force and with swallow-like skim took another flight. "Isn't it near dinner-time?" he said at last to the doctor, who was by his side watching the flights. "Must be, I should say," was the reply, as that gentleman glanced at his watch. "Yes: close upon it. Glad of it, for I begin to feel a bit peckish in spite of this heat. I wonder what your fish will be like." He soon learned, for the cook was right, and all pronounced it excellent; but there was something more than ordinary flavour about the fish from the Red Sea, and the doctor gave Sir John a meaning look, one to which Jack's father responded by a short nod. Edward had had his opinions too, about his young master--opinions which sometimes made him look pleased, at others shake his head. "Young governor's going it," he muttered, as he stood near watching the fishing. "Fancy him getting excited over hooking a fish, and holding on by the line. Beats anything I ever knew of before. There, you never know what's in a boy till you begin to get it out of him. Why that line must have cut his hands awful, but he never reg'larly 'owled about it, only rubbed the places a bit when he got a chance. Wonder whether the doctor's giving him some kind of physic as makes him come out like this. If he is, I should like to have a dose or two to bring me up to the mark. It's wonderful what a change he's made." Edward ceased for a few moments. "Wonder how he gives it him, and what he takes it in. He don't know he's taking it, that's for certain. It must be on the sly, or I should have seen it, and the glass and spoon. That's it. He puts it in his coffee; I'll be bound to say that's it--in his coffee. I'll be on the watch." "Dunno why I should though," said the man, after a few moments' musing. "'Tain't my place to know anything about it, and if it does him good, where's the harm? And it is doing him good, that's for certain; but I should like to know what it is, and when he gives it." CHAPTER THIRTEEN. BEGINNING TO GROW BACKWARD.