“I’m not, sir,” retorted the midshipman angrily. “What are our weapons of war for unless to use?”
“Oh yes; of course, when they are wanted. If I were a captain I shouldn’t shrink for a minute about firing broadsides and sinking our enemies in times of necessity, any more than I should have minded burning out such a hornets’ nest as that yonder; but the captain was quite right over this business. Look at the wretched creatures, regularly defeated.”
“They’ve been allowed to escape, sir,” said Roberts haughtily, “and I feel ashamed of our commander.”
“I don’t,” said Murray, laughing. “I think he’s a peculiar eccentric fellow, ready to say all kinds of unnecessary things; but he’s as brave as a lion – braver, for I believe lions are precious cowards sometimes.”
“Pooh!” ejaculated Roberts.
“And the more I know of him the better I like him.”
“And I like him the less, and I shall never rest till I can get an exchange into another ship.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Murray, laughing merrily.
“You don’t! Why – ”
“Pst! The skipper,” whispered Murray.
For the captain had approached the two midshipmen, his spy-glass under his arm and his face puckered up with a good-humoured smile.
“Laughing at it, eh?” he said. “That was a novel evolution of war, young gentlemen, such as you never saw before, I’ll be bound. There; we might have shattered up the noble black king’s fleet and left the river red with what we did and the sharks continued afterwards, but my plan and the master’s conning of the vessel answered all purposes, and left my powder magazine untouched ready for the time when we shall be straining every nerve, gentlemen, to overtake that Yankee’s schooner. That’s what we have to do, Mr Roberts; eh, Mr Murray?”
“Yes, sir; and the sooner the better,” replied the latter.
“The sooner the better? Yes,” said the captain, nodding; “and if we have to sink her that will be work more worthy for our metal. But patience, patience. Yes; for sailors like better work than sinking a few savage canoes. But, as I said, patience. You hot-blooded boys are always in such a hurry. All in good time. I’m not going to rest till I have got hold of my smooth, smiling Yankee, and I promise you a treat – some real fighting with his crew of brutal hounds. I’ll sink his schooner, or lay the Seafowl alongside, and then – it will be risky but glorious, and you boys shall both of you, if you like, join the boarders. What do you say to that?”
The captain did not wait for an answer, but tucked his telescope more closely under his arm and marched aft, to stand gazing over the stern rail at the last of the war canoes, which disappeared directly in one of the river bends, while the sloop glided rapidly on towards the muddy river’s mouth.
“Well, Dick, how do you feel now?” said Murray, smiling.
Roberts knit his brows into a fierce frown as if ready to resent any remark his messmate might make. But the genial, open, frank look which met his disarmed him of all annoyance, and he cleared his throat with a cough.
“Oh, I don’t agree with him about the treatment of those blacks,” he said. “There’s a want of stern, noble justice about his running down that canoe.”
“But it answered all purposes, Dick.”
“Humph! Maybe; but it looked so small, especially when we had all our guns loaded and the men ready for action.”
“Patience,” said Murray merrily, taking up the captain’s words. “Patience! You boys – hot-blooded boys are always in such a hurry. Wait a bit, old chap, and when we catch up to the Yankee we’re to have a turn at the boarding. You’ll have a try, eh?”
“Will I?” said the boy, screwing up his features and setting his teeth hard. “Will I! Yes!”
“Mean it?”
“Yes, I believe so,” said Roberts thoughtfully. “I felt ready for anything when those war canoes were coming on, and I believe I should feel just the same if the lads were standing ready to board the schooner. But I don’t know; perhaps I should be all of a squirm. I don’t want to brag. It all depends. Those who make the most fuss, Frank, do the least. We shall see.”
“Yes,” said Murray, looking at his comrade with a curious, searching gaze; “we shall see.”
Chapter Fifteen.
The Doctor is Riled
It was with a peculiar feeling of relief that all on board the sloop passed out into the open and saw the dull green banks of the mangrove forest fading away astern. For there had been a haunting feeling of depression hanging over the vessel which seemed to affect the spirits of officers and men.
“Hah!” said the doctor, coming up to where the two middies were gazing over the stern rail, “that’s a comfort, boys. I can breathe freely now.”
“Yes,” said Murray; “the air seems so much fresher and makes one feel more elastic, sir. Gives one more of an appetite.”
“What!” said the doctor drily. “More of an appetite, eh? I never noticed that you two wanted that. Gracious, how much do you want to devour!”
“Oh, I say, doctor, I don’t eat so much,” said Murray, protesting.
“No, sir; it isn’t so much; it’s too much.”
“You’re mixing us up, doctor,” said the lad mischievously, and he gave the professional gentleman a peculiarly meaning look. “You were thinking of Roberts.”
“Here, what’s that?” said the middy sharply. “I’m sure I never eat more than a fellow of my age and size should.”
“Oh, I say, Dick,” said Murray. “Hear him, doctor? Why, I’ve seen the mess steward open his eyes sometimes with wonder.”
“Tchah! He’s always opening his eyes with wonder, staring at everything. He’s a regular idiot.”
“Ah, well,” said Murray, “I don’t want to draw comparisons.”
“Then don’t do it,” cried Roberts warmly.
“Don’t be so peppery, my lad,” said the doctor.
“Well, I don’t want to be accused of gluttony or eating to excess.”
“Pooh! Don’t mind what he says,” said the doctor good-humouredly. “I hate excess, but it does me good to see growing boys make a hearty meal.”
“Frank Murray’s too fond of bantering, doctor,” said Roberts; and then, involuntarily passing a finger tenderly over the spots where the incipient bits of whisker had been singed off, “I don’t quite look upon myself as a growing boy.”
“Oh, don’t you?” said the doctor, rather gruffly. “I should have thought you had not done putting on inches. There, never mind Murray’s chaff. By the way, why do you keep shaving yourself down the cheeks with that finger? does the skin feel tender where you were so much scorched?”
“Yes, doctor, a little,” replied the youth innocently enough.
“H’m, yes, but that cream I gave you does good, doesn’t it?”
“Oh yes, doctor.”
“Nasty scorching you fellows all had. I quite expected to have some bad patients – burns and spear wounds. Lucky escapes, all of you. That Titely was the worst, but the way in which a good healthy sailor’s flesh heals up is wonderful. It’s just like cutting into a piece of raw native indiarubber before it has been fooled about and manufactured up with brimstone – vulcanised, as they call it. You lads ought to bear it in mind, in case you get a cut or a chop. All that’s wanted is to see that the wound is thoroughly clean and dry, and then