CHAPTER FOUR.

ANOTHER BOY.

It was either sunrise or sunset, for the cabin was full of a rich warm glow, and Fitz lay upon his back listening to a peculiar sound which sounded to him like _fuzz, whuzz, thrum_.

He did not attempt to turn his head for some moments, though he wanted to know what made those sounds, for during some little time he felt too lazy to stir, and at last he turned his head gently and remembered the eyes that had looked at him once, and recalled the face now bent down over something before him from which came those peculiar sounds.

Fitz felt interested, and watched the busy ringers, the pa.s.sing and re-pa.s.sing needle, and the manipulation of a mesh, for some time before he spoke.

"How quick and clever he is!" he thought, and then almost unconsciously a word slipped out.

"Netting?" he said.

Needle, string and mesh were thrown down, and Fitz's fellow-occupier of the cabin started up and came to his side, to bend over and lay a brown cool hand upon his forehead.

"Feel better?" he said.

"Better?" said Fitz peevishly.

"Yes, of course."

"Why--Here, stop a moment. Who are you?"

"No doubt about it," was the reply. "That's the first time you have talked sensibly."

"You be hanged!" said Fitz sharply.

But as he spoke it did not seem like his own voice, but as if somebody else had spoken in a weak, piping tone. He did not trouble himself about that, though, for his mind was beginning to be an inquiring one.

"Why don't you answer?" he said. "Who are you? What's your name?"

"Poole Reed."

"Oh! Then how came you in my cabin?"

"Well," said the lad, with a pleasant laugh, which made his rather plain face light up in the warm sunset glow and look almost handsome; not that that was wonderful, for a healthy, good-tempered boy's face, no matter what his features, always has a pleasant look,--"I think I might say what are you doing in my cabin?"

"Eh?" cried Fitz, looking puzzled. "How came I--your cabin--your cabin?

Is it your cabin?"

The lad nodded.

"I don't know," said Fitz. "How did I come here?"

"But it is my cabin--rather."

"Yes, yes; but how did I come here?"

"Why, in the boat."

"In a boat?" said Fitz thoughtfully--"in a boat? I came in a boat?

Yes, I suppose so, because we are at sea. But somehow I don't know how it is. I can't recollect. But I say, hasn't it turned _very_ warm?"

"Yes. Getting warmer every day."

"But my head--I don't understand."

"Don't you? Well, never mind. How do you feel?"

"Oh, quite well, thank you. But I want to know why I am here--in your cabin."

"Oh, you will know soon enough. Don't worry about it now till you get strong again."

"Till I get strong again? There, now you are beginning to puzzle me once more. I am strong enough now, and--No, I am not," added the lad, rather pitifully, as he raised one hand and let it fall back. "That arm feels half numbed as if it had been hurt, and," he added, rather excitedly, "you asked me how I was. Have I been ill?"

"Yes, very," was the reply. "But don't fret about it. You are coming all right again fast."

Fitz lay back with his brow wrinkled up, gazing at his companion and trying to think hard; but all in vain, and with a weary gesticulation--

"I can't understand," he said. "I try to think, but my head seems to go rolling round again, and I can only remember that mill."

"Then take my advice about it. Don't try to think at all."

"But I must think; I want to know."

"Oh, you'll know soon enough. You can't think, because you are very weak now. I was just the same when I had the fever at Vera Cruz--felt as if my head wouldn't go; but it got better every day, and that's how yours will be."

"Did I catch a fever, then?" said Fitz eagerly.

"No," was the reply. "You caught something else," and the speaker smiled grimly.

"Caught something else? And been very bad?"

The lad nodded.

"Then--then," cried Fitz excitedly, "Captain Glossop had me sent aboard this ship to get me out of the way?"

"Well, not exactly. But don't you bother, I tell you. You are getting right again fast, and father says you'll be all right now you have turned the corner."

"Who's 'father'?" said Fitz.

"That's a rum question. Why, my father, of course--the skipper of this schooner."

"Oh, I see; the skipper of this schooner," said Fitz thoughtfully. "Is it a fast one?"

"Awfully," said the lad eagerly. "You will quite enjoy seeing how we can sail when you are well enough to come on deck. Why, if you go on like this we ought to be able to get you up in a day or two. The weather is splendid now. My father is a capital doctor."