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Middy and Ensign, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 23. How Bob Roberts And Tom Long Asked For Leave |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. HOW BOB ROBERTS AND TOM LONG ASKED FOR LEAVE Very great things come from very small germs, and for a long time afterwards Captain Horton bitterly regretted that he had been in so easy and amiable a frame of mind that he had accorded Bob Roberts the holiday he desired. He had dined well, and was in that happy state of content that comes upon a man who is not old, and whose digestion is good. It was a glorious night, and the captain was seated on deck at a little table bearing a shaded lamp and his cup of coffee, when Bob respectfully approached, cap in hand. "If you please, sir--" "Who's that? Oh! Roberts. Here; go down to the cabin, Roberts, and fetch my cap. I don't want to catch cold." "Yes, sir." "Hi! stop, my boy! Here; lend me your cap till you come back." It was a very undignified proceeding, but Captain Horton had a horror of colds in the head, and would far rather have been undignified than catch one. So he took the little, natty gold-laced cap held out to him, and stuck it upon his pate. "Bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "What a stupid little head you've got, Roberts." "Yes, sir," said the lad sharply, "very; but it will grow, sir." "Then I hope it won't grow more stupid, boy. There, be quick!" Bob ran down to the captain's cabin, and obtained the required piece of headgear, with which he returned to the quarter-deck, where the captain was sipping his coffee, apparently oblivious of the fact that he had sent for his cap. "Your cap, sir." "Oh, ah! to be sure! yes, of course. Thank you, Roberts. Exchange is no robbery, as we used to say at Harrow. You needn't wait." "Thank you, sir; no, sir, but--" "Now what is it, Roberts? You know I don't like to be troubled after dinner." "Yes, sir; but I beg your pardon, sir. Might I have leave to go ashore to-morrow?" "Yes--no. What, in the name of goodness, do you mean, Mr Roberts, by coming and asking me? Go to the first lieutenant." "Please, sir, I'm very sorry to trouble you, but he's dining at the residency." "Then why didn't you wait till he came back?" "Because, sir, please sir, Mr Wilson's always cross when he has been out to dine. He's not like you, sir." The captain started up in his chair, and gazed full in the lad's face. "You're a nice boy, Roberts," he said; "but don't you try any of that impudent flattery on with me again." "No, sir. I beg pardon, sir, but may I go?" "Wait till the first lieutenant comes back, sir, and ask him." "But please, sir, it's important." "What is?" "That I should have leave to-morrow, sir." "Where are you going, then?" "Please, sir, I _was_ going shooting." "Oh!" said his captain, laughing; "then that's what you call important, eh? Well, I don't know what to say. Have there been any complaints against you lately?" "Two or three, sir," said Bob; "but I have been trying very hard, sir," he added earnestly, "to do my duty." "Humph!" said the captain. "Well, I was a youngster myself once. I suppose you'd be very much disappointed if I said _no_?" "Yes, sir; very much." "Humph! Who's going with you?" "Ensign Long, sir, if he can get leave." "Well, Roberts, you can go; but be careful with your guns. And look here, don't do anything to annoy the Malays. Don't go near their religious places, or get trespassing." "No, sir, I'll be very careful." "Any one else going?" "Ali Latee, sir, the Tumongong's son." "Very well. Be off!" "Yes, sir, thank you, sir," cried Bob joyously, and he hurried away. Ensign Long felt perfectly sure that if he went direct to the major, and asked for leave to go ashore shooting, it would be refused. He would have gone and asked Captain Smithers to intercede for him, but the captain was always short, and ready to be annoyed at nearly everything said; so he concluded that Bob Roberts' idea was the best, and he went straight to Doctor Bolter, who was in his room, in his shirt and trousers, both his sleeves rolled up, busily pinning out some gorgeous butterflies that he had secured. "Ah, Long!" he said, as the youth entered; "how are you? just hand me that sheet of cork." "Quite well, sir, thank you." "Oh! are you? I'll look at your tongue directly. Hand me one of those long thin pins." The pin was handed. "Now put a finger on that piece of card. Gently, my dear boy, gently; the down upon these things is so exquisitely fine, that the least touch spoils them. Look at that Atlas moth by your elbow. Isn't it lovely?" "Magnificent, sir," said Long, taking up a shallow tray, and really admiring the monstrous moth pinned out therein. "Ah, my lad! I wish I could see you turning a little attention to natural history, now we are in this perfect paradise for a collector. How much better for you than lounging about all day under the trees. Now then, put out your tongue." "But I'm quite well, Doctor Bolter." "Put--out--your--tongue--sir. Confound it all, sir, I've no time to waste!" As he spoke he took up the lamp, and held it close to Tom Long's face, so that the light might fall upon the protruded organ. "Hah!" ejaculated Doctor Bolter, resuming his seat. "But I really am quite well, sir," remonstrated Tom Long. "Don't tell me, sir, that you are quite well. Do you think I don't know when a man's well, and when he is not? You are just a little wee bit feverish." He felt the youth's pulse, and nodded his head sagely. "Too much idleness and good living is what is the matter with you, sir. Why don't you collect?" "How can I, sir," said Tom, "when I'm shut up in this island?" "Go ashore. Here, I'll give you some collecting boxes, and lend you a vasculum and a net. Go and get me some butterflies." "Well, sir, if it's all the same to you," said Tom, taking advantage of the wind blowing in the right direction, "shooting's more in my way. Suppose I shot you some birds?" "Better still," said the doctor, enthusiastically. "Nothing I should like better. I want a few trogons, and the blue-billed gaper. Then you might get me the green chatterer, and any new birds you could see." "Yes, sir." "And look here, Long; the woods here are the chosen resort of the great argus pheasant. I don't suppose you would be able to come across one, but if you do--" "Down him," said Tom Long. "Exactly," said the doctor. "There, my lad, I won't give you any medicine, but prescribe a little short exercise." "Thank you, sir," said Tom, trying hard to restrain his eagerness. "Might I have a run to-morrow? I have felt very languid to-day." "To be sure. I'll see the major, and get leave of absence for you. Be careful, though. Don't overheat yourself; and mind and not get into any scrape with the Malays." "I'll mind, sir," said Tom. "That's right. Be very careful not to spoil the plumage of the birds. You can make a Malay boy carry them tied by the beaks to a stick. Stop a minute; as you are here, you may as well cut up these cards for me in thin strips. I'll go and ask the major the while." Tom set to work at the cards with a pair of scissors, and the doctor donned his undress coat, went out and returned with the requisite permission. "By the way, look here, Long; if you'll promise to be very careful, I'll lend you my double gun." "I'll take the greatest care of it, sir," was the reply. "Good! There it is; so now be off; and to-morrow night I shall expect a nice lot of specimens to skin." So Tom Long went off with the gun, and the doctor helped to turn the residency into an abode where danger usurped the place of safety, and peace was to be succeeded by the horrors of war. _ |
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