t
few days, but to keep on deck always except in the hottest times. In
another week you won't know yourself."

"Hah!" ejaculated the boy. "Then now, sir--don't think me ungrateful,
for nobody could be kinder to me than you and Poole here have shown
yourselves since I have been aboard."

"Thank you, my lad, for both of us," said the skipper, smiling
good-humouredly. "I am glad you give such ruffians as we are so good a
character. But you were going to say something."

"Yes, sir," said the boy excitedly, and he cleared his voice, which had
grown husky.

"Go on, then. You are beating about the bush as if you had some favour
to ask. What is it?"

"I want," cried Fitz excitedly, and his cheeks flushed and eyes
flashed--"I want you, sir," he repeated, "now that you say I'm better
and fit to get about--"

"On deck," said the skipper dryly.

"Oh yes, and anywhere as soon as this giddiness has passed off... I
want you now, sir, to set me ashore."

"Hah! Yes," said the skipper slowly. "I knew we were coming to that."

"Why, of course, sir. Think of what I must have suffered and felt."

"I thought Poole here had done his best to make you comfortable, my
lad."

"Oh yes, and he has, sir," cried the boy, turning to look full in his
attendant's eyes. "He has been a splendid fellow, sir. Nobody could
have been kinder to me than he has, even at my worst times, when I was
so ill and irritable that I behaved to him like a surly brute."

"It's your turn now, Poole," growled the skipper, "to say `Thank you'
for that."

"But you must feel, sir, how anxious and worried I must be--how eager to
get back to my ship. In another day or two, Captain Reed, I shall be
quite well enough to go. Promise me, sir, that you will set me ashore."

The skipper had pursed up his lips as if he were going to whistle for
the wind, and he turned his now frowning face to look steadfastly at his
son, who met his eyes with a questioning gaze, while the midshipman
looked anxiously from one to the other, as if seeking to catch an
encouraging look which failed to come.

At last the boy broke the silence again, trying to speak firmly; but,
paradoxically, weakness was too strong, and his voice sounded cracked as
he cried, almost pitifully--

"Oh, Captain Reed! Promise me you will now set me ashore!"

The skipper was silent for a few moments, before turning his face slowly
to meet the appealing look in the boy's eyes.

"Set you ashore