Middy and Ensign Part 68

But Captain Smithers refused to listen to this proposal.

"No," he said, "it was quite open to the ladies to take up their abode on board, and probably they would be more secure there than on sh.o.r.e; but so far," he said, "all was surmise about the expeditionary party.

For all they knew, Captain Horton, Major Sandars, and their men, might have met with the best of treatment, and at the end of a few days they might return, to find the station abandoned by those left in charge."

"I only hope they may," said the lieutenant. "For my part, I feel certain that the whole of the people hereabouts are under the influence of the rajah, sultan included. But I will not oppose you, Captain Smithers, until matters come to such an extremity that it seems to me that we are uselessly risking life, then I must insist on an evacuation of the fort."

"I will not oppose you then," said Captain Smithers; "but you see that now it is as if I asked you to resign your s.h.i.+p."

Lieutenant Johnson nodded; and it having been resolved to hold out to the last, hoping the while that the expedition might return, the next proceeding seemed to be that of sending out a trustworthy spy or two, into the country and amongst the people.

Both Bob Roberts and Tom Long were present at what the latter had importantly called the council of war, but nothing definite was decided upon; and, soon after, the two friends were sitting beneath the shade of one of the trees, the Malays having withdrawn to a distance, and hostilities being for the present suspended.

"I think," said Tom Long, importantly, "that the ladies are quite right in declining to leave the fort. They are much safer there."

Bob Roberts laughed, gazed in his companion's face, and laughed again heartily; to the very great disgust of Tom Long.

"Yes," he said, gruffly, "I dare say it is very funny, and anybody can laugh like a buffoon about such an arrangement; but how are they going to be safe on board a vessel whose officers cannot keep her from running aground."

"Well that's a facer, certainly," said Bob, rather warmly; "but if you come to that, where would you have been if we hadn't come to your help-- burnt out by this time, with your precious fort."

"Bob Roberts," said Tom Long, solemnly, "or rather I suppose I ought to say _Mr_ Roberts--you are about the most quarrelsome fellow I ever met."

"You couldn't meet yourself," said Bob, "or you would run against one ten times as quarrelsome."

"If you want to fall out," said the ensign, "you might do it in a gentlemanly way."

"If you want me to punch your head, Tom Long, just say so," cried Bob, hotly.

"I repeat my words," said Tom Long, with hauteur. "If you wish to quarrel, sir, you might do it in a gentlemanly manner."

"Gentlemanly be hanged!" cried Bob. "There's nothing gentlemanly in quarrelling or fighting."

"And refer the matter to friends," continued the young military officer.

Bob's face was red as that of a turkey-c.o.c.k the moment before, but at these words the anger seemed to pa.s.s away like a cloud from before the sun, and he burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"Oh!" he said, "that's what you mean is it? Swords, or pistols, and seconds, early in the morning, with a doctor on the ground. Oh, I say, Tom Long, this is too delicious."

"Sir!" exclaimed Tom Long.

"I say it's too delicious. Duelling be hanged; it's fools' work; and I'm not quite fool enough to let a friend make a hole, or try to make a hole, in my precious carcase."

"Sir, none but a coward would speak as you are speaking," cried Tom Long, indignantly.

"Oh, wouldn't he?" said Bob. "Well, then, I suppose I'm a coward, for hang me if we don't get running risks enough from these coffee-coloured fellows, without trying it on among ourselves."

"I thought you more of a gentleman," said Tom Long, contemptuously.

"Oh, you did, did you?" said Bob; "and I'm a coward, am I? Well, look here, my lad, it's too hot now, but if you like to come on board to-night, or to-morrow morning, and take off your jacket like a man, I'll have it out with you in the gun-room, and old d.i.c.k to see fair, and you can bring Private Gray or Sergeant Lund."

"What do you mean?" said Tom Long, haughtily; "swords or pistols, sir?"

"Do I mean swords or pistols, sir?" said Bob, imitating the other's pompous way; "no, sir, I don't mean either. I reserve those lethal weapons, sir, for Her Majesty's enemies, sir, as an officer and a gentleman should; and when I fall out with a friend, I punch his head with my fist--like a man."

"Like a man!" said Tom Long, in tones of disgust; "like a schoolboy or a blackguard."

"No, sir," said Bob, still mimicking his companion; "the schoolboy or man who uses his fists is to my mind not half such a blackguard as the _gentleman_ who tries to kill a fellow in cold blood, and calls it on account of his honour."

"The old contemptible argument," said Tom Long, sneering. "No one but a coward would take refuge behind such excuses."

"Then I'm a coward!" said Bob, c.o.c.king his heels up on a chair, and sticking his hands in his pockets. "All right: I'm a coward; and as we used to say at school, 'give me the coward's blow,' and if you do, Tom Long, you see if I don't punch your head."

Tom Long rose, and came at him menacingly, and Bob laughed in his face.

"I say, Long, old man," he said, "what a jolly pair of fools we are to quarrel about nothing at all."

"I never want to quarrel," said Tom Long, stiffly, for the other's mirth took him aback, "but when a fellow behaves like a coward--"

"In the face of the enemy," interposed Bob, "kick him out of the service, military or naval, eh? Look here, Tommy."

"For goodness' sake, sir, don't call me by that objectionably childish name," cried the ensign. "How should you like to be called Bobby?"

"Not much, old boy," said the middy; "but I don't much care. Never mind, shake hands. No, don't. Let's do it mentally. Here's old Ali coming, looking as black as a civilian's hat. Hallo, Ali, old chap, ain't you precious proud of your dear fellow-countrymen?"

"Poor fellows; poor fellows!" said Ali, sadly, as he looked from one to the other.

"Poor fellows!" said Long.

"They're a jolly set of sharks, with stings in their tails, that's what they are," said Bob.

"The poor fellows have been crushed down by cruel governments, and made the slaves of piratical rajahs and cowardly sultans," cried Ali, indignantly. "They are a brave set of fellows, and they are only fighting against you because they are set on by their leaders."

"Then all I can say is," said Bob, "that I should like to have a pop at their leaders. But cheer up, old chap, you needn't look so down-hearted."

"Not look down-hearted," cried Ali, pa.s.sionately, "how can I look otherwise? Where is my father? Where are our friends? What is my position here? Do you think it gives me pleasure to see the poor brave men who are fighting against you shot down by your guns? It makes me wretched."

"Well, never mind," cried Bob, kindly, as he rose and clapped the young chief on the shoulder. "It will all come right in the end."

"I hope so," said Ali; "but tell me, what have you decided to do?"

"Well, that's announcing the secrets of the council of war," said Bob.

"Shall I tell him, Long?"

"Oh, yes, we can trust him," replied the ensign. "We are going to stay and fight it out."

"Of course, of course," said Ali, nodding. "You could not give up. You must not give up."

"But we want to get some news of the expedition party, by sending a trustworthy spy," said Bob. "Can you get us a man whom you can trust?"

Ali stood thinking for a few moments, and then shook his head sadly.