"Not if I know it, boy. Ah, he's coming-to now." For the injured lad opened his eyes, to stare about him, trying to understand what it all meant, and grinning as he saw Phil. "I say," he whispered, "I caught you!" "That you didn't!" said Phil, indignantly. "Well, nearly. But what's the matter with my leg?" "Broke," said Phil, in a whisper. "That all?" said the boy, coolly. "Well, then, I sha'n't be able to walk." "No," said Phil, in a hurried whisper. "You're to be in hospital, and he says I'm to be your nurse." "Who? The doctor?" "Yes, sir," said that individual, sharply. "Your right leg's broken just below the knee, and you may think yourself very lucky it wasn't your neck." Phil turned upon him an indignant look which made the doctor stare. "Be a warning to you both not to play such monkey tricks again," he added, sourly. "There, little one, stop with him, and I'll tell one of the men to bring you some breakfast here." CHAPTER SIX. That mishap and the boy's illness worked a complete change. His companions were not allowed to come to what was called the sick bay, but somehow they soon came to know that Phil had been appointed nurse, and that he was constant in his attendance, and doing everything he could to help the sufferer. Possibly they heard a good deal from Jack Jeens, who did manage to steal a few minutes with Phil once a day. So did the ship's boys whenever Phil showed himself on deck. He tried to avoid them at first, but they cut him off, and to his surprise instead of plying him with blows they wanted to shake hands, while ever after they were the best of friends. "Why is it?" Phil asked Jack Jeens, who laughed, and said he supposed it was because he tended the injured lad so well. But Phil found that there was other work for him besides nursing a boy with a broken leg, for at certain times he was called up on deck when the men were working the guns, and he had to learn what was required from him in connection with the great gun to which Jack Jeens belonged, and in his quick way Phil soon did what was required, and that was, to run down to the magazine and fetch a flannel bag that seemed to be full of sand up on deck ready for the crew of the gun to push into the mouth of the gun, where it was rammed down with a long rod, before a big shot was taken out of the rack close by, and rammed down the gun in turn, which was then fired. It was all new to Phil, and he saw neither harm nor danger in it. It was nothing to him but going below to fetch that flannel bag, and he was in profound ignorance of the fact that if it went near a light he would be blown to pieces, while he could not have had a more dangerous task than that of the powder monkey who fetched up the charges from the magazine, where if a spark should fall the vessel would be blown to atoms and sunk.