Syd Belton Part 75

"Ah, you dunno yet, father."

"Don't I? You young swab; why, if I had my head took off with a shot, I wouldn't howl as you did."

"Why, yer couldn't, father," said Pan, grinning.

"What, yer laughing at me, are yer? Just you wait till I gets a few yards o' dackylum stuck about me, and you'll get that rope's-end yet, Pan-y-mar."

"Oh, no! I shan't," said Pan in a whisper, after glancing at the lieutenant, who was lying with his eyes closed. "You'll be bad for two months."

"What? Why, you sarcy young lubber, if the luff warn't a-lying there and I didn't want to wake him, I'd give yer such a cuff over the ear as 'd make yer think bells was ringing."

"Couldn't reach," said Pan, dabbing his face.

"Then I'd kick yer out of the door."

"Yah!" grinned Pan. "Can't kick. I see yer brought in, and yer couldn't stand."

"Keep that water out o' my eye, warmint, will you," whispered the boatswain. "Water's too good to be wasted. Give us a drink, boy."

Pan rose and dipped a pannikin full of the cool water from a bucket, and held it to his father's lips.

"Wouldn't have had no water if it hadn't been for me coming ash.o.r.e," he said.

"Ah, you've a lot to boast about. Just you pour that in properly, will yer; I want it inside, not out."

"Who's to pour it right when yer keeps on talking?" said Pan, as he trickled the water into his father's mouth.

"Ah, you're a nice sarcy one now I'm down, Pan-y-mar," said Stoke, after a long refres.h.i.+ng draught. "But you may be trustful, I've got a good memory for rope's-ends, and you shall have it warmly as soon as I'm well."

"Then I won't stop and nuss yer," said Pan, drawing back.

"You just come on, will yer, yer ungrateful swab."

"Shan't," said Pan.

"What! Do you know this here arn't the skipper's garden, and you and me only gardeners, but 'board s.h.i.+p--leastwise it's all the same--and I'm your orficer?"

"You arn't a orficer now," said Pan, grinning. "You're only a wounded man."

"Come here."

"Shan't!"

"Pan-y-mar, come here."

"Say you won't rope's-end me, and I will."

"But I will rope's-end you."

"Then I won't come."

The boatswain made an effort to rise, but sank back with a groan. Pan took a couple of steps forward, and looked at him eagerly.

"Why, you're shamming, father," he said.

The boatswain lay back with the great drops of sweat standing on his face.

"I say, you won't rope's-end me, father?"

There was no reply.

"Why, you are shamming, father."

Still all was silent, and the boy darted to the injured man's side and began to bathe his face rapidly.

"Father," he whispered, hoa.r.s.ely, "father. Oh, I say! Don't die, and you shall give it me as much as you like. Father--Oh, it's you, Master Syd. Be quick! He's so bad. What shall I do?"

"Be quiet," said Syd, quietly. "Don't be frightened; he has fainted."

"Then why did he go scaring a lad like that?" whimpered Pan, looking on.

"Hus.h.!.+ Be quiet. There: he is coming round," said Syd, as the injured man uttered a loud sigh and looked wonderingly about him.

"Just let me get hold--Oh, it's you, sir. Glad you've comed. I'm ready now.--Stand aside, Pan-y-mar, and give the doctor room.--Say, Master Syd," he whispered, "don't let that young sneak know what I said, but I do feel a bit skeared."

"You are weak and faint."

"But it's about my legs, Master Sydney. Don't take 'em off, lad, unless you are obliged."

"Nonsense! I shall not want to do that. You are much bruised, but there are no bones broken."

"Ay, but there are, my lad," said the boatswain, sadly. "I didn't want to say much about it, but I am stove in. Ribs."

"How do you know?"

"Feels it every time I breathes, my lad. Bad job when a s.h.i.+p's timbers goes."

Sydney knew what to do under the circ.u.mstances, and sending Pan for Rogers to help him, he proceeded to examine his fresh patient, to find that two ribs were broken on the right side, the rest of the injuries consisting of severe bruises and grazings of the skin. In addition there were a couple of cuts on the back of the head, which called for strapping up.

Part of these injuries had been attended to by the time Pan returned with Rogers, and then the ribs were tightly bandaged with a broad strip of sail-cloth.

"I say, sir," growled the boatswain, "not going to do this all over me?"

"No! Why?"

"'Cause I shan't be able to move, and my boy's been a-haskin' for something hot 'fore you come."

"That I didn't, father."