close at hand, always watching him anxiously
and ready to make a sign to him from time to time--a sign which meant
"More powder," and sent him running to the hatch-way and down to the
magazine, from which he soon returned, heedless of the fact that if he
stopped near a patch of burning tinder or wood the bag of flannel which
he carried might explode in his hand.

It was all wild noise and confusion, in the midst of which Phil,
blackened and besmirched by the smoke and powder amongst which he moved,
had eyes for nothing but his friend, who divided his time between
toiling at the gun to which he was attached and watching his little
_protege_, trembling for his safety when he had gone towards the opening
in the deck through which he had to descend, and only breathing freely
again when he saw the boy come panting back with his charge. Like the
rest of the crew, Jack Jeens knew nothing of how the battle went. He
had his duty to do, and he did it, till all at once, just as he turned
his head aside to give Phil a welcoming look through the gloom, he was
conscious of the tremendous shock of a sickening blow.

Then all was blank for a time, till the darkness by which he was
surrounded opened a little and he found himself lying upon the deck,
with Phil looking horrified as he knelt beside him holding a tin of
water to his lips.

Poor Jack could not hear what Phil said for the roaring of the guns, but
he could read the little fellow's lips as he pressed him to drink, and
sick to the heart and suffering from the terrible wound which had struck
him down, he raised his hand to the tin to steady it and drink, but only
to see it fall upon the deck, a splinter having struck it from the boy's
hand.

Jack's wild eyes seemed to say, Are you hurt? But he too made no sound,
for at that moment a little group assembled upon the deck, opened out,
and both he and Phil saw the figure of their great commander being borne
towards them on his way to the spot where he breathed his last. His
eyes were open and he was looking wildly round as if in search of
something to guide him as to the progress of the great battle, when all
at once they rested upon the childlike face of Phil, as the boy knelt
beside his wounded and bleeding friend.

A change came over Nelson's face; the wildly anxious look died out, and
as his eyes met those of the boy he smiled at him sadly, and Phil rose
quickly to his feet, carried away by the childlike feeling of pity