The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 45

"Look at 'em, Mas' Don; they've been having a fight."

Jaded, their clothes torn in all directions, coated with mud, and with their faces smeared and scored, the blood stains on their cheeks and hands gave the returning party all the appearance of those who had been engaged in a fight for life.

But it had only been an encounter with the terrible thorns and spines of the wild land they had explored, and the wounds, much as they had bled, were but skin deep.

The boat-keepers leaped out, and ran the stern in as close as they could, and the captain was in the act of stepping in, placing a hand on Don's shoulder to steady himself, worn out as he was with his long tramp, when it seemed to Don that he felt the cold, slimy touch of a shark gliding up against his bare legs, and with a start of horror he sprang sidewise, with the result that the captain, who was bearing down upon the lad's shoulder, fell sidewise into the sea.

"You clumsy idiot!" cried the captain; and forgetting himself in his annoyance, worn out as he was, and irritable from his great exertions, he caught at Don's extended hand, and then as he rose struck the boy a heavy blow with his doubled fist right in the chest.

Don staggered heavily, fell into the water, and then struggled up drenched as the captain was before him. Then, forgetting in his hot rage everything about their relative positions and the difference in age, the boy made for the tall, frowning officer before him, and would have struck him in his blind wrath but for Bosun Jones, who had seen everything, and now hastily interposed.

"No, no, my boy," he said. "Keep back, you are too wet to do any good.

Allow me, sir."

Don shrank back, realising the heinousness of the social sin he was about to commit, and a dead silence fell on the group, the men staring wonderingly as the captain accepted Bosun Jones' help, stepped into the boat, and stood wringing himself.

"Why, the young dog was going to strike me!" cried the captain.

"Surely not, sir," said the boatswain hastily. "Only going to help you, sir."

"Help me! I believe he was going to hit out. Here, sir, what made you start away like that?"

"He thought it was a shark, sir," cried Jem. "One's been about the boat all the aft'noon."

"Hold your tongue, sir!" cried the captain sternly. "Here, you boy, what made you flinch!"

"Thought I felt the shark touch me, sir," said Don, sullenly.

"Oh, then I am to be thrown into the water because you are a cowardly young idiot," cried the captain. "I'll talk to you to-morrow. In with you, my lads, and give way."

"There's no boathook!" cried the c.o.xswain; and on the keepers being called to account, their story was received with such manifest doubt, that Don writhed and sat sullenly in his place in the boat, as it was rowed back to the sloop.

"Rather an absurd story that, Jones--about the boathook," said the captain as he stepped on board. "Mind it is reported to-morrow morning.

I believe the young scoundrel was going to strike me."

"But you struck him first," said the boatswain to himself, as he saw the captain descend. "Hot-headed young rascal. Ah! Here, Lavington, what about that boathook? Let's have the simple truth. One of the Maoris stole it, and you were afraid to speak?"

"I was not afraid to speak the truth, sir," said Don; "and I told it."

"But that's such a wild story. Your messmate could not have driven it into a shark over the hook."

"I don't know whether it was driven in over the hook, sir," replied Don; "but it stuck in the fish's back and would not come out."

The boatswain looked at him thoughtfully, while Don waited to hear his words.

"Look here, Lavington," he said, "I liked you, my lad, from the first, and I should be sorry for you to be in serious trouble. I have been your friend, have I not?"

"I can't see much friends.h.i.+p in dragging one away from home," said Don, coldly.

"I had my duty to do, young man, and a sailor is not allowed to ask questions as to what's right or wrong."

"But I was treated like a criminal," said Don.

"You were treated far better than pressed men are as a rule especially those who try to break away. But I can't argue that with you. You and your companion are king's men now, or king's boys, and have to do your duty. Let's come back to to-day's work. The captain's offended, and I want to save you from trouble if I can."

"It's very kind of you, sir," said Don.

"Now tell me this. Do you know what you were going to do when the captain knocked you backwards?"

Don was silent.

"Well, I'll tell you," said the boatswain. "You were going to strike him again. That's the truth, is it not?"

Don remained silent.

"It is the truth. Well, have you any idea of what a bit of madness that would have been here?"

Don shook his head.

"Why, my good lad, you could not commit a greater crime. It means death."

"Does it, sir?"

"Does it, sir! Why, goodness me, my lad, you must be half mad."

"People are sometimes, sir, when they are hit."

"Yes, that's true enough; but you must master your temper. Save all that sort of thing up till you fight the French, and then you will be allowed to grow quite mad if you like. Now once more, about that boathook. You did not lose it?"

"Yes, sir; we did lose it."

"Ah, I thought so."

"Because the great fish carried it off."

"Humph! Well, go and get yourself dry. If you are lucky, you will hear no more about this, only have the cost of the boathook deducted out of your pay, and perhaps the captain will have forgotten all about your conduct by to-morrow."

"What did he say to you?" said Jem, as Don went below.

Don told him.

"Pay for the boathook?" said Jem. "Well, I'll do that, my lad. But what did he say--the skipper would forget it by to-morrow?"

"Yes, Jem."

"I hope he will."

"But I can't forget that he hit me," said Don sternly.