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Middy and Ensign, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 22. The Crew Of The Captain's Gig |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG There was a good deal of the schoolboy left in the young representatives of Her Majesty's two services; not that this is strange, for a good deal of his schoolboyhood clings to a man even in middle life. Bob Roberts had a tiff with Long, made vow after vow that he would never speak to the ensign again; declaring him to be a consequential cocky scarlet pouter pigeon, with as much strut in him as a bantam. On the other hand, Tom Long declared the middy to be a most offensive little rascal, with impertinence enough in him for a dozen men. He was determined to cut him dead--that he was, and he would have no more to do with him. Result the very next day: Bob Roberts hurried down into the captain's gig, sitting there very eager and excited; for they were going to the island, and he had a plan in his head. The captain came to the side and down the ladder, the gig was pushed off, the crew's oars fell into the bright river with one splash, and as they did so Bob Roberts forgot all the respect due to his commander, by suddenly catching him by the arm. "Look, look, sir. See that?" "No, Mr Roberts," said the captain rather sternly, "but I felt it." "I beg your pardon, sir," said Bob, saluting. "It was a great crocodile, and the splash of the men's oars frightened it." "Oh, indeed," said the captain dryly; and he took out a despatch and began to read. Dick, who was coxswain of the gig, screwed up his mahogany visage, and Bob pretended to look terribly alarmed, and so the boat was rowed over the sparkling waters to the bamboo landing-stage, when the captain got out, and Bob was left in charge of the boat. Bob jumped up as soon as the captain had entered the residency, and began to fidget about. "I wish I knew how long the skipper would be, Dick," he said. "I want to go ashore. No, I don't," he said, correcting himself. "I got in a row once for that. But look here, Dick, suppose you go and find Mr Long." "All right, sir," said Dick, with alacrity. "I'll go." "Oh no, you don't," cried Bob, recollecting himself again; "that fly won't take the same cock salmon twice, Master Dick." "I don't understand you, sir," growled Dick, rubbing his ear. "Oh no, I suppose not," said Bob. "You didn't go ashore for me once with a message, and then get up to the canteen and forgot to come back again, did you?" "Lor', now you mention it, sir, so I did," said Dick. "It was that day as I met Sergeant Lund, and he says, 'Why, Dick, old man,' he says, 'you look as dry and thirsty,' he says, 'as a fish. Come and have some lime juice and water,' and I did, and talking together about the 'Startler' and her guns, and earth-works, made me quite forget how the time went by. But lor', Mr Roberts, sir, what a memory you have to be sure." "Yes," said Bob, sticking his cap on one side, and cocking his eye knowingly at the old salt; "a fellow just needs to have a good memory. I say, Dick, that lime juice and water was precious strong that day, wasn't it?" "No, sir, not a bit," said the old sailor, stolidly. "But now I come to recollect, the sun did make me awful giddy." "All right, Dick," said the midshipman; "run the boat a little more under the shade of those trees, and we'll keep you out of the sun to-day." Old Dick growled, and picked up the boat-hook to draw the gig further along, to where there was a dense cool shade. Then as he laid the boat-hook down, and retook his place, he began to chuckle. "You're a sharp 'un, Mr Roberts, that you are," he said, laughing. "Well, I'll own it; that was a bit of a slip that day. Send one o' the tothers ashore then, with your message." "No, I'll be blessed if I do," said Bob. "I'll never give way an inch again about a boat's crew; I haven't forgotten that little game at Aden, where I sent one chap ashore to get me some cold water to drink, and he didn't come back; and another volunteered to go and fetch him, and I let him go, and he didn't come back; and then I had to send another, and another--eight of 'em, every one vowing he'd bring the rest back; and at last I sat alone in that boat without a crew, and the first lieutenant came, and a nice wigging I had. No, Master Dick, I've been at sea too long now to be tricked by those games, and I mean to have the strictest discipline whenever I'm in command." The men in the forepart of the boat overheard all this, and began to look very gloomy. "Couldn't you let one on us go and get a bucket o' water, sir? it's precious hot," said the man who pulled bow oar, and he touched his forelock. "No, Mr Joe Cripps, I couldn't," said Bob, sharply; "but I tell you what you all may do; put your heads over the side, and drink as much of this clear river-water as you like. We're not at sea, man." "More we aren't, sir," said the man, glancing round at his companions, who laughed. "Look here," said Bob, "Dick will keep an eye on the shore, and I'll tell the sentry there to pass the word. You may all smoke if you like, only look smart, and put away your pipes if the captain's coming." "Thanky, sir," chorussed the men, and pipes were quickly produced by all save Dick, who helped himself to a fresh quid. "I say, sentry," cried Bob, "pass the word on there--I want to see Mr Long." "Yes, sir," was the reply, and the white-coated sentry walked to the end of his beat, and made a sign to the next sentry, who came to the end of his beat, heard what was wanted, and passed the message on, so that at the end of a few minutes Ensign Long came slowly down to the landing-place, with an umbrella held up to keep off the sun, and found the boat's crew smoking, and Bob Roberts, with his cap tilted over his eyes, sitting in the bottom of the gig, with his legs over the side, so exactly arranged that the water rippled round the soles of his shoes, and pleasantly cooled his feet. "Did you wish to speak to me, Mr Roberts?" said Long, stiffly. "Hallo, Tom, old man! Here, jump in! I've got some news for you." Ensign Long looked very stand-offish; but the eager face of Bob, the only one about his own age of whom he could make a companion, was too much for him; and as Bob got up and made a place for him, Mr Ensign Long unbent a little, and really, as well as metaphorically, undid a button or two, and got into the captain's gig. "I say, look here, Tom, old man, what's the use of us two always falling out, when we could be so jolly together?" said Bob. "I don't quite understand you," said Tom Long, stiffly. "I am not of a quarrelsome disposition, as any of my brother officers will tell you." "Then it must be me then who is such a quarrelsome beast, and there's my hand, and we won't fall out any more." Ensign Long undid a few more buttons, for it was very hot, and condescended to shake hands. "I'm sure it's not my wish to be bad friends," said Ensign Long. "I think the members of the two services ought to be like brothers." "So do I," said Bob. "I say, sentry, keep a sharp look-out for the captain, and I'll stand a glass for you at the canteen next time I come ashore." "Yes, sir," said the sentry. "But p'raps, sir, I mayn't see you next time you come ashore." "There's an artful one for you, Tom," cried Bob, getting his hot wet hand into his pocket with no little difficulty, and throwing the man a fourpenny piece. "Now, look here, Tom," he continued, as the man cleverly caught the tiny piece and thrust it in his pocket, Ensign Long carefully closing his ear and looking in the other direction the while, "you and I might have no end of games if we could only keep friends." "Well, let's keep friends, then," said Tom Long. "Agreed," said Bob, "and the first one of us who turns disagreeable, the other is to punch his head." "No, I can't agree to that," said Tom, thoughtfully, "because we could not settle who was in the wrong." "Then we'd punch one another's heads," said Bob; "but never mind about that. Look here." Ensign Long undid a few more buttons, of which he had a great many down the front of his mess waistcoat, just like a row of gold-coated pills, and then he proceeded to _look there_, that is to say mentally, at what his companion had to say. "Do you know that young Malay chap, who came on board yesterday with his father, the Bang-the-gong, or Tumongong, or whatever he calls himself?" "Yes, I saw him; he came afterwards to the fort, and was shown round." "Didn't you speak to him?" "Not I. Don't care much for these niggers." "Oh! but he's no end of a good chap," said Bob. "He can't help being brown. I took him down to the gun-room, and we smoked and talked; he can speak English like fun." "Indeed!" "Yes, indeed; and I tell you what it is, he's worth knowing. He's quite a prince, and as jolly as can be. He says there's out-and-out shooting in the jungle, and if we'll go ashore and have a turn with him, he'll take us where we can have a regular good day." "What does the young savage shoot with," said Long, disdainfully, "a bow and arrow?" "Bow and arrow be hanged! Why, don't I tell you he is quite a prince? and he's regularly English in his ways. Some one made him a present of a Purdey breechloader, and he uses Eley cartridges. What do you think of that?" "Very disgusting that men should take to such adjuncts to civilisation before they leave off wearing those savage plaid petticoats." "I believe they are a tribe of Scotsmen, who came out here in the year one and turned brown," said Bob, laughing. "Those sarongs are just like kilts." "Yes," said Tom Long, "and the krises are just the same as dirks." "Well, bother all that!" cried Bob. "I told him we'd both come to-morrow, and bring guns, and he's going to get some prog, and half-a-dozen beaters; and we'll have a jolly day." "But," said Tom Long, dropping his official ways, and speaking excitedly, "he didn't ask me!" "He said he'd be delighted to know you. He likes Englishmen." "But we can't get leave." "Can't we?" cried Bob. "I can. If the skipper says no, I think I can work him round; and I'm sure you can manage it. Look here, you ask Doctor Bolter to manage it for you, and say we'll bring him all the specimens we can shoot." "By Jove, Bob, what a jolly idea!" cried Tom Long--an officer no longer, but a regular boy again. "We'll get leave to-night, and start early." "That we will." "But are you sure that young Tumongong would be glad to see me too?" "Ali Latee, his name is, and I've got to call him Al already, and he called me Bob. Glad? of course he will. I said you'd come too; and I told such a whopper, Tom." "What did you say?" "I told him you were my dearest friend." "Well, so I am, Bob; only you will get so restive." "Yes, I always was a restive little beggar," said Bob. "To-morrow morning then, and--" "Captain coming, sir." "Landing-place at daybreak, Tom. Cut," whispered Bob; and the young ensign rose and leaped ashore, buttoning up his little golden-pill buttons, as Captain Horton came down the path, and answered his salute with a friendly nod. The next minute the water was flashing like fiery silver from the blades of the oars, and the gig returned to the steamer's side, where Bob began to prepare for the next day's trip, taking it for granted that he could get leave. _ |
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