"Yes," came like a sigh.

"Well, you see, you'll have to go back."

The little fellow dropped the piece of biscuit he held, and it fell with a rap upon the deck, as he started to his feet, glanced out of the open port-hole, and took a quick step or two towards it, darted off into the darkness of the 'tween decks, the sailor catching a glimpse of him as he pa.s.sed the light shed by the lanthorns.

"Scared, that's what he is," muttered Jack. "Why, I do believe that in his fright he'd ha' jumped into the water and swum for it sooner than be sent back. Well, I must find him again; and it don't seem easy in a great ship like this. Poor little chap, he was 'most ready to jump out of his skin!"

Jack took a few steps cautiously in the direction followed by the little fellow, but he had hardly started before the sound of a shrill whistle rang out, and he and some ten more pressed men were ordered on deck to be examined by the first lieutenant and some of the other officers, before being informed that they were now King's men, and ordered to receive their kits, after which they were distributed amongst the crew according to whether they were land or sea men, the latter having little to learn.

Jack uttered a grunt as he learned his destination, which was to be under the order of the captain of one of the big guns on the main deck, and the meaning of that grunt was that he determined to make the best of it. But his grunt sounded deep, because he had little Phil Leigh upon his mind, so he addressed one of the officers, and stated his case.

"Eh? The boy brought aboard with you when you were pressed?"

"Yes, sir," said Jack. "Run away from home, he did. Uncle thrashed him. Young gen'leman he is, and I want you to put him in a boat and set him ash.o.r.e."

"Oh! do you, my lad?" said the officer, gruffly. "Run away from home, did he?"

"Yes, sir, because--"

"That'll do, my lad; no more talk. If he has run away from home he has run into the very best place to learn how to be a good boy."

"But--"

"That'll do, sir. I've no time to listen to you. We want boys."

"But he's such a little un, sir," pleaded Jack.

"Then we'll feed him well and make him grow big. Where is he?"

"Dunno, sir. He run away again this morning."

"What, again?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, well, he can't run far, and we shall find him soon. Set him ash.o.r.e, eh? Next sh.o.r.e we shall see will be somewhere on the coast of Portugal or Spain, I expect."

The officer said the last words to himself as he tramped away, leaving Jack Jeens to stand scratching his head and muttering.

"Pore little chap!" he said. "They'll make a powder monkey on him?

Well, and a fine thing too. Better than being a boy at home with an uncle who gave him the stick for crying after his father and mother who are dead. Here, Phil, messmate, where are yer?" he said softly, and his voice sounded as if somehow he had a soft place in his rough, honest heart. "Where are yer, little un? I want to tell you that you're going to be powder monkey aboard Admiral Lord Nelson's ship."

CHAPTER FOUR.

Jack Jeens found himself at last piped down below, swinging his hammock and turning in like the rest, to lie listening to the wash of the waves against the rolling sides of the great man-of-war, whose timbers creaked and groaned, for a stiff breeze had sprung up as the fleet began to run down channel. A rough night at sea did not trouble Jack, but he lay thinking about little Phil and wondering whether he could do any good by getting out of his hammock and trying to find him in the darkness; but he felt nothing but despair as he knew enough about a man-o'-war besides what he had seen during the time he had been on board, to feel sure that if he began to search he would soon be stopped by the marine sentries or by the watch.

"A man can't do as he likes aboard a King's ship," he said to himself dismally, as he lay in the black darkness, "but only let me get this night over, and they may say what they like, I'll go straight to the captain, or to Lord Nelson himself, and ask him to have that little fellow found. Here, what's that?"

He said those last three words half aloud, for he had suddenly felt something cold brush across his face.

"That you, Jack?" came in a soft whisper.

"Yes. That you, little messmet? Hooroar! Give's your fin."

"Promise me you won't send me home, Jack, and I will."

"Send you home, messmet!" growled the rough sailor, whose voice trembled with emotion. "Why, o' course I won't! You're to stay aboard, and be a powder monkey. My word! Your hands are like ice! Where have you been all day?"

"Down in the dark, and it was so cold," said the little fellow, shivering. "But you won't send me back, Jack? I can't--I can't go."

"Send yer back? Not me!" growled the sailor. "On'y too glad to get yer again. Don't I tell yer that you're one o' the King's men now, and are going to stop? My word, you are cold! Here, heave ho! That's got you!

You snuggle up here alongside me. King's man! Why, you're not much bigger than a frog, and just as cold. My hammock feel warm?"

"Oh, so warm--so warm, Jack!" came in a whisper, as two little hands were pa.s.sed round the rough fellow's neck.

"That's right, little un. But are you hungry?"

"No, not very; only cold and tired, Jack. But I don't mind now you're not going to send me home. Oh, Jack, I do feel so happy and comfortable!"

"That's right, but I say, little un, it's making you cry again. That don't seem so very happy, do it?"

"Yes, it's because I'm so very, very happy, Jack; but don't speak to me for a bit."

"Right, but what's the matter? You're not going to get out again, are you?"

"No, but don't speak, please," whispered the little follow. "I'm afraid some of the other men will hear."

Jack Jeens, the rough sailor, drew a deep breath, as he held on to Phil's jacket to make sure that he did not fall out, as he struggled up at the side of the hammock; and then for some little time he did not stir, while the huge vessel rolled and creaked and groaned, through which sounds came the heavy breathing of the men swinging in their hammocks.

But at last the future powder monkey crept softly back into his old place and pa.s.sed his arms round the rough sailor's neck, and a curious thrill of satisfaction ran straight to Jack Jeens' heart as he felt two little lips press his cheek, and heard a pleasant, soft voice whisper:

"Good-night, Jack. G.o.d bless you!"

It was not many minutes afterwards, and while the light from the swinging lanthorn close up to the companion ladder by the marine sentry had turned so dim that the man had opened the half transparent door to snuff the candle within, that Jack Jeens, whose eyes in the gloom felt a little moist, muttered to himself.

"He said 'good-night. G.o.d bless you, Jack!' he did. And on'y think of it--him amongst all these rough chaps a-sleeping here in the dark-- kneels up in my hammock, he did, poor little chap, and says his prayers!"

CHAPTER FIVE.

Phil sprang out of the hammock at the first sound of a whistle, looking rested and quite content, as he readily answered Jack's question about sleeping well.

Then followed other questions put by half-awake sailors as to who he was and how he came there--questions which began to trouble the little fellow, till Jack Jeens came to his help.

"Who is he?" cried the big bluff sailor. "Why, he's my boy. He was pressed along with me, and he's going to be a powder monkey."