rving."

"Starving, Bob? I had not thought of it," said the boy, sadly.

"Then I'll think for you. I say you must have something, and so must I.
Fellow's engine won't work without coal. Hi! Jackum! Something to
eat?"

The black bounded to his side.

"Jackum want eat. Baal hab bit snakum."

"More you did, Sootie; but you shall have something better. Come
along."

"Car-ee come 'long too."

"No," said Carey; "I'll stop here."

"Car-ee come. Doc-tor farss 'sleep. Big Dan brokum. Sit alonga long
time. Baal fetch um too much drinking grog. Old man no good."

"Go along with Bob."

"Go alonga Cookie now?"

"Yes, and he'll give you plenty."

"Plenty eat. Jackum come back soon."

Bostock reached down his hand, but the help was not needed, the black
springing up and rapidly making his way on deck, where he stood for a
few moments gazing across the lagoon, stained blood-red now by the big
fire; and he laughed softly.

"Black fellow eat plenty snakum. Jackum eat plenty now. Sit alonga
self."

A few minutes later he was happily sitting on the deck by the galley
"alonga self," eating half the overdone bird which Bostock had given
him, while the old sailor had roughly prepared the most tempting part
for his young companion and taken it to the saloon skylight.

"Here you are, Master Carey," he said. "Brought your coals. How's the
king?"

"I have heard him groan several times."

"That's because he's low-sperrited, sir, because he didn't quite mumkull
me and the doctor. But I say, sir, he's a long time blowing up the
ship. Got it, sir? That's right! You'd better eat it in the dark, for
fear he might crawl up a few steps if he saw a light, and want to pass
the time practising his shooting. Now, no gammon, sir."

"What do you mean, Bob?"

"You'll eat that bit?"

"I don't feel as if I can."

"But you must, dear lad. It's to make you strong to help the doctor,
and mebbe to shoot straight again' Old King Cole."

"I will eat it, Bob."

"Right, sir! That's British pluck, that is. How's your chesty now?"

"Very bad, Bob."

"Then sorry I am. Next time the doctor begins to talk you ups and asks
him what he's got in his medsome chest as is good for it. I say,
though, I s'pose it's no use to try and coax the doctor with a mossick
of anything, is it?"

"Oh no, no."

"Not a cup o' tea and a bit o' toast?"

"Not now, Bob; he's sleeping calmly, and that must be the best thing for
him."