denly woke
to the fact that he did not feel so weak and giddy, while, by the time
he was on deck, it as suddenly occurred to him that he could eat some
breakfast.

"I thought as much," said Jem. "Lookye there, Mas' Don. Did you ever
see such a miserable sneak?"

For there, not half-a-dozen yards away, was the sinister-looking sailor
talking to the bluff boatswain.

"Oh, yes, of course," said the latter, as he caught sight of the
recruits. "So does every man who is pressed, and if he does not say it,
he thinks it. There, be off."

The ill-looking sailor gave Jem an ugly look and went aft, while the
boatswain turned to Don.

"That's right," he said. "Make a bit of an effort, and you're all the
better for it. You'll get your sea legs directly."

"I wish he'd tell us where to get a sea leg o' mutton, Mas' Don,"
whispered Jem. "I _am_ hungry."

"What's that?" said the boatswain.

"Only said I was hungry," growled Jem.

"Better and better. And, now, look here, you two may as well set to
work without grumbling. And take my advice; don't let such men as that
hear either of you talk about desertion again. It doesn't matter this
time, but, by-and-by, it may mean punishment."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A CONVERSATION.

The gale was left behind, and the weather proved glorious as they sped
on towards the tropics, both going through all the drudgery to be
learned by Government men, in company with the naval drill.

There was so much to see and learn that Don found it impossible to be
moody; and, for the most part, his homesickness and regrets were felt
merely when he went to his hammock at nights; while the time spent
unhappily there was very short, for fatigue soon sent him to sleep.

The boatswain was always bluff, manly, and kind, and following out his
advice, both Jem and Don picked up the routine of their life so rapidly
as to gain many an encouraging word from their officers--words which, in
spite of the hidden determination to escape at the first opportunity,
set them striving harder and harder to master that which they had to do.

"Yes," Jem used to say, "they may be civil, but soft words butters no
parsnips, Mas' Don; and being told you'll some day be rated AB don't
bring a man back to his wife, nor a boy--I mean another man--back to his
mother."

"You might have said boy, Jem; I'm only a boy."

"So'm I, Mas' Don--sailor boy. You seem getting your head pretty well
now, Mas' Don, when we're up