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The Black Bar, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 42. Convalescence |
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_ Chapter Forty Two. Convalescence "Hallo, old mole!" "I'm going to give you a thoroughly good licking, Bob, as soon as I get well," said Mark, a few mornings later, on being saluted as above. "I should like to see you do it." "You shall, my dear young friend. Last night it was rat; night before owl; now it's mole." "Well, so you are a jolly old mole. Regular night bird." "Didn't know a mole was a night bird." "Boo! clever. He's getting well, is he? You're always sneaking about in the dark. Why, if I'd been wounded I should be proud of my scars." "Should you?" said Mark, passing his hand over his bald head and scorched eyebrows. "Well, I'm not, and I shan't care about showing myself till my hair's grown." "Look here, I'll get the armourer to make you a wig out of some oakum." "Bob Howlett, I'm strong enough to lick you now," said Mark, gripping the boy's thin arm, "so just hold your tongue. Now tell me how's poor Mr Russell?" "Coming round fast. Whitney goes about rubbing his hands when he thinks no one is looking. He's as proud as a peacock with ten tails because he operated on Russell's head and lifted up something, and now the poor fellow's going on jolly. I like Russell." "So do I. He's a true gentleman." "And I shall make him take me next row there is on. He's sure to be wounded or something, he's such an unlucky beggar, and then I should have to be in command." Mark burst out laughing. "Now don't be sneering and jealous," cried Bob. "Think nobody else can capture slavers but you? Nasty slice of luck, that's all it was. Yah! I'm sick of it." "Of what?" "Hearing the fellows puffing and blowing you up. You'll go pop like a soap bubble one of these days." Mark laughed good-humouredly. "Anyone would think you had done wonders, and were going to be promoted to admiral instead of being only a middy who has to pass his examination years hence, and then going to be plucked for a muff, for I know more navigation than you do. Look here, Guy Fawkes: when the sun is in right declination forty-four degrees south, how would you find the square root of the nadir?" "Put your head a little nearer, Bob; I can't hit out quite so far." "Hit--hit me? Why, you bald-headed, smooth-faced--No, I won't jump on you now you're down. I'll be bagdadibous, as the chap with a cold in his head said through his nose. Favourite of fortune, I forgive you." "Thankye." "Because I shall get my whack of the prize-money same as you, old chap." "Ah, how are all the slaves?" "Nice and clean. They've all been white-washed." "Get out." "Well, I mean the holds, and they eat and drink and lie about in the sun basking like black tom-cats with their wives and kittens. I wish they wouldn't be so jolly fond of lying down on the deck like door-mats, and asking you to wipe your shoes on 'em." "They don't." "No, poor beggars, but they're so delighted that they're just like pet dogs. Seem as if they couldn't make enough of you." "Got any news, Bob?" "No. Leastwise, not much," said Bob, taking out his knife and sharpening it on his boot, which was a sign that he was going to cut his initials somewhere, to the great detriment of her Majesty's ship's fittings and boats. "It's rather dull down here sometimes." "Then why don't you come on deck?" "I'd--I'd rather wait a bit," said Mark, sadly. "Perhaps it would be best. You do look such a rum 'un. I know. Capital idea. I'll ask the ship's tailor to make you a Turkish costume, white. Your bare head would look all right then. What'll you have--a fez or a turban? Say fez; your complexion would look well with the scarlet." Bob joked, Mark read, and trusted to his friend for reports, and meanwhile the two schooners sailed on with their prize crews in the wake of the _Nautilus_. In due time Port Goldby was reached, and the freed slaves disembarked, all chattering and happy as so many girls and boys. There had been times when Mark missed the excitement of his adventures, and agreed with Bob that it was hot and tame; but his burns rapidly healed, and he received visits from the men who had shared his troubles, and after dark stole unseen to Mr Russell's quarters, to sit in his cabin and talk to him gently about all the past. "You'll have all the work to do next time, Mr Russell," Mark used to say. "Some day I shall be the one down, but I hope I shall be with you when you command some other expedition." "I hope you will be with me," said the lieutenant, feebly; "but not be so unlucky as I have been. But there: never mind past troubles. I'm getting stronger, thanks to Mr Whitney. All that time I passed insensible is to me like a long night's rest. Mark, my lad, I hope we shall have many adventures together yet; but whether we do or no, though I am much older than you are, remember one thing: you and I must always be good friends, and some day, if ever I command a ship, I hope you will be my lieutenant." "Ah," said Mark, "that's a long way off, but I hope I may." _ |
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