Middy and Ensign Part 48

As it was, however, he followed his officer into the cabin, and made a hearty breakfast.

"I tell you what," said the lieutenant, who was a very quiet stern young officer--and he stopped short.

"Yes, captain," said Bob.

Lieutenant Johnson smiled.

"I tell you what," he said again, "nothing would give me greater pleasure than for Mr Rajah Gantang to bring down his prahus some time to-day, Lieutenant Roberts. I could blow that fellow out of the water with the greatest pleasure in life."

"Captain Johnson," said Bob, solemnly, "I could blow him in again with greater pleasure, for I haven't forgotten my swim for life."

"You feel quite a spite against him then, Roberts?"

"Spite's nothing to it," said Bob. "Didn't he and his people force me, a harmless, unoffending young fellow--"

"As ever contrived to board a prahu," said the lieutenant.

"Ah, well, that wasn't my doing," said Bob. "I was ordered to do my duty, and tried to do it. That was no reason why those chicory-brown rascals should cause me to be pitched into the river to the tender mercies of the crocodiles, who, I believe, shed tears because they couldn't catch me."

"Well, Roberts," said the lieutenant, "you need not make yourself uncomfortable, nor set up the bantam c.o.c.k hackles round your neck, and you need not go to the grindstone to sharpen your spurs, for we shall not have the luck to see anything of the rajah, who by this time knows that it is his best policy to keep out of the way. Will you take any more breakfast?"

"No, thank you, sir," said Bob, rising, for this was a hint to go about his business; and he went on deck.

"Mornin', sir," said old d.i.c.k, pulling at his forelock, and giving one leg a kick out behind.

"Morning, d.i.c.k. Don't you wish you were along with the hunting-party?"

Old d.i.c.k walked to the side, sprinkled the water with a little tobacco juice, and came back.

"That's the same colour as them Malay chaps, sir," he said, "nasty dirty beggars."

"Dirty, d.i.c.k? Why they are always bathing and swimming."

"Yes," said d.i.c.k in a tone of disgust, "but they never use no soap."

"Well, what of that?" said Bob. "You don't suppose that makes any difference?"

"Makes no difference?" said the old sailor; "why it makes all the difference, sir. When I was a young 'un, my old mother used to lather the yaller soap over my young head till it looked like a yeast tub in a baker's cellar. Lor' a mussy! the way she used to shove the soap in my eyes and ears and work her fingers round in 'em, was a startler. She'd wash, and scrub, and rasp away, and then swab me dry with a rough towel--and it was a rough 'un, mind yer--till I shone again. Why, I was as white as a lily where I wasn't pink; and a young lady as come to stay at the squire's, down in our parts, blessed if she didn't put me in a picter she was painting, and call me a village beauty. It's the soap as does it, and a rale love of cleanliness. Bah, look at 'em! They're just about the colour o' gingerbread; while look at me!"

Bob looked at the old fellow searchingly, to see if he was joking, and then finding that he was perfectly sincere, the middy burst into a hearty roar of laughter.

For long years of exposure to sun and storm had burned and stained d.i.c.k into a mahogany brown, warmed up with red of the richest crimson. In fact, a Malay had rather the advantage of him in point of colour.

"Ah, you may laugh," he growled. "I dessay, sir, you thinks it's werry funny; but if you was to go and well soap a young Malay he'd come precious different, I can tell you."

"But somebody did try to wash a blackamoor white," said Bob. "Tom Hood says so, in one of his books."

"Well, and did they get him white, sir?" asked d.i.c.k.

"No, I think not," said Bob. "I almost forget, but I think they gave him such a bad cold that he died."

"That Tom Hood--was he any relation o' Admiral Hood, sir?"

"No, I think not, d.i.c.k."

"Then he wasn't much account being a landsman, I s'pose, and he didn't understand what he was about. He didn't use plenty o' soap."

"Oh yes, he did, d.i.c.k; because I remember he says, a lady gave some:--

"Mrs Hope, A bar of soap."

"Then they didn't lather it well," said d.i.c.k decisively. "And it shows how ignorant they was when they let's the poor chap ketch cold arter it, and die. Why, bless your 'art, Mr Roberts, sir, if my old mother had had the job, he'd have had no cold. He'd have come out red hot, all of a glow, like as I used, and as white as a lily, or she'd have had all his skin off him."

"And so you really believe you could wash these Malay chaps white?"

"I do, sir. I'd holystone 'em till they was."

"It would be a long job, d.i.c.k," said Bob laughing. "But I say, don't you wish you had gone with the hunting-party?"

"Yah!" said d.i.c.k, a.s.suming a look of great disgust and contempt, although he had been growling and acting, as his mates said, like a bear with a sore head, because he could not go. "Not I, sir, not I. Why, what have they gone to do? Shoot a big cat all brown stripes. I don't want to spend my time ketching cats. What's the good on 'em when they've got 'em? Only to take their skins. Now there is some sense in a bit of fis.h.i.+ng."

"Especially when your crew in the boat goes to sleep, and let's you be surprised by the Malays."

"Ah, but don't you see, sir," said d.i.c.k, with his eyes twinkling, "that's a kind o' moral lesson for a young officer? Here was the case you see: the skipper goes to sleep, and don't look after his crew, who, nat'rally enough, thinks what the skipper does must be right, and they does the same."

"Oh! all right, master d.i.c.k," said the middy. "I'll take the lesson to heart. Don't you ever let me catch you asleep, that's all."

"No, sir," said the old sailor, grinning, "I won't. I've got too much of the weasel in me. But as I was saying, sir, there's some sense in a bit o' fis.h.i.+ng, and I thought if so be you liked I'd get the lines ready."

"No, d.i.c.k, no," said Bob, firmly, as he recalled Lieutenant Johnson's words over the breakfast-table. "I've no time for fis.h.i.+ng to-day. And besides, I'm in charge of the s.h.i.+p."

"Oh! indeed, sir," said d.i.c.k. "I beg pardon, sir."

"Look here, d.i.c.k," said Bob sharply, "don't you sneer at your officer because he makes free with you sometimes."

The middy turned and walked off, leaving d.i.c.k cutting himself a fresh plug of tobacco.

"He'll make a smart 'un by-and-by, that he will," muttered the old fellow, nodding his head admiringly; "and I'm sorry I said what I did to the high-sperretted little chap, for he's made of the real stuff, after all."

On the island, Tom Long was feeling quite as important as the middy. A keen sense of disappointment was troubling him, but he would not show it. He had several times over been looking at his gun, and thinking that it would carry a bullet as well as a rifle, and wis.h.i.+ng that he could have game to try it. But soon afterwards he encountered pleasant Mrs Major Sandars.

"Ah! Mr Long," she cried, "I've just been seeing Miss Linton and Miss Sinclair. Now you know you have these deserted ladies and the whole of the women under your charge, and I hope you'll protect us."

"I shall do my utmost, madam," said Tom Long importantly. "You ladies needn't be under the smallest apprehension, for you will be as safe as if the major and Mr Linton were here."

"I shall tell Miss Linton so," said Mrs Major, smiling; and she nodded and went away, leaving the young ensign uncomfortable, as he felt a kind of suspicion that he had been speaking very consequentially, and making himself absurd.

"I wish I was either a man or a boy," he said to himself pettishly. "I feel just like a man, and yet people will treat me as if I were a boy.