CHAPTER VII.

"THREE CHEERS FOR CAPTAIN EGERTON!"

"IF you please, Captain Egerton, may I say a few words to you, private?" said Gideon Terlizzeck to the captain, who was standing by the side, gazing down into the dark blue water.

The "Imogene" was at sea again.

"Eh, Terlizzeck? Yes, of course. Here—or will you come to my cabin?"

"I'll come to your cabin by-and-by, sir, if I may."

"No time like the present, Gideon. We'll go there now."

The captain led the way and Gideon followed, both silent. But Gideon's lips were moving, and if his captain did not hear his voice, it was heard by Him to whom the old man spoke.

The captain laid aside his sword and cap and seated himself.

"There's a chair close to you, Gideon," said he. "Well, old friend, what do you want?"

Gideon did not sit down. He had taken off his straw hat, and now stood passing it absently round and round in his hands. At last he said—

"I don't think, sir, that I'm over-doing of it when I say that what I want you to give me is a life—and a soul."

"What do you mean, Gideon?"

"That there unfortunate boy, Tom Adderley, sir."

"Why, surely you know that his life is in no danger?"

"Not in the way you mean, sir. But if I may be so bold as speak out, sir, I think I can show you that what I said is true."

"Speak out, Gideon. I have known you all my life; you've sailed with me four times, and I rather think I owed you my life in that brush with the Malay pirates when I was a lieutenant. I know what a good old fellow you are, and I'm quite ready to listen to whatever you have to say. But I am rather surprised to find you interested in this young Adderley."

"Well, I am, sir. The boy has good in him, and he's been unfort'nate. Just let me tell you his story, sir. He comes from a place some days' journey inland from Liverpool; and being set on, seems to me, by an old man as lived there, to want to see the world and make a fortune, Tom ran off and shipped on that there merchant ship."

With this beginning Gideon told the tale of Tom's saving, and its object; his determination after four years of sailoring to go home, and his misery when he was not only prevented doing so, but lost his precious hoard. Very simply, but not unskilfully, was the story told.

"Now, sir, I took to the lad from the first; seemed to me he wanted a friend so bad. And I've talked to Carr and the other fellows that know him, and I find he was held to be the best and smartest man, all round, on board of that there trader, and Carr's a good man himself and knows what he is talking of. And—you'll acknowledge this, captain—the lad got hard lines."

"Very unlucky his losing that money—very."

"And being pressed, captain? You know I love the service, but I came of my own free will."

"Oh, come, Gideon," said the captain, laughing; "I can't allow that, you know. We 'must' get men."

"Yes, but one willing man is worth ten pressed men. And, captain, if you'd be so good as overlook this—this—folly of poor young Tom's, it's a willing man I do believe you might make of he. He's far from a bad lad. If you'd jaw him a bit, and get his promise to do better if you let him off; I'll be his surety he'll keep his word. And if Tom Adderley's flogged, sir, there's an end of he. He won't be alive in a month; he won't, indeed. If you'd 'a seen and heard him the time Callcutt was punished! Why, he were mad for a bit, and said plain and out that he'd never outlive such disgrace. He's proud, poor fellow, and—oh, sir, I do beseech you, spare him if you can."

"But how can I, Gideon? The fellow hides and lets us sail without him, and from what I can hear he was quite sober, and fully meant to escape altogether. Think of the example. You know I am not inclined to punish severely, but I really think Adderley must be made an example of. I'll give him only two dozen?"

"Oh, sir, one dozen would be as bad as six. It's the disgrace. There's some that never seem to think about it; there's some it kills, or drives to death, anyhow. I saw that long ago, before you entered the service, sir. 'Twas a man from my own place, and he were above the common, being one as had some education. Sir, he drowned himself, though we was watching him because we didn't like his looks. And this boy is such another for pride; and he's not twenty yet, and has a mother at home!"

"I don't see that I can do it, Terlizzeck."

"Sir, the old nigger that showed where he was hid told Mr. Carteret that when Tom stayed ashore the night before, it was because he was too ill to stir. Now, if you had him up private, and gave him a wigging, and then offered him another chance, why, Tom isn't likely to talk about it all, and the story that he was ill would come for to be believed."

"'You' don't believe it, Gideon?"

"No, sir, I'm sorry to say, I do not. But if you saw him, sir, sitting there silent—hardly eats a bit and never speaks—if he isn't ill, he's in a fair way to be. I do believe he were mad to try such a fool's trick, and that he's mad with himself now for having done it."

There was a short silence; then Gideon spoke again.

"Captain Egerton, I'm sorry I said that. You've the right to judge, sir, whether you can overlook his fault or not, and I know that the good of one lad must give way to the good of the ship's company and the service. Besides, if it's right to do it, it won't need hiding. Moreover, that wasn't an upright notion of mine, and I'm ashamed of it. But, captain, I've served man and boy, forty-seven years and three months, and did never ask a favour before that I can call to mind, beyond a day's leave at times; and my heart is wonderful set on Tom Adderley."

Captain Egerton got up, and walked up and down the very limited space at his command, once or twice. Then, sitting down again, he said—

"Terlizzeck, I will not refuse your request. I wish it to be known that Adderley is spared because you interceded for him. I fear I shall more than ever get the credit in the service of being too lenient, but I'll risk that, as you think it may be the saving of this young fellow. You'll keep an eye on him, Gideon."

"Sir, I do truly not know how to thank you!"

"If the lad turns out well, it is I that shall have to thank you. Just pass the word for the prisoner to be brought here, will you? And say to knock off the irons."

Gideon went and gave the necessary orders, and in about ten minutes the door was again opened, and Tom Adderley, being shoved into the cabin, stood where his guard left him, apparently not seeing where he was.

[Illustration: TOM STARTED, AND CRIED OUT HURRIEDLY, "AM I TO BE FLOGGED?"]

"You may go, my men. Leave Adderley here."

Captain Egerton looked at the prisoner for a few moments without speaking. Poor Tom! It was hard to believe just now that he had ever been a bright, active, intelligent sailor. His curly hair was all matted over his forehead; his face was deadly white, with a dull look of despair in it; his eyes were dazzled by the sudden light, so that he could scarcely open them.

"Adderley," began the captain.

Tom started, and cried out hurriedly, "Am I to be flogged?"

"What do you expect?" asked the captain.

Tom's head sank upon his breast.

"It don't matter what I expect," he said. "They'll never hear of it at home."

"Adderley, Gideon Terlizzeck has been speaking to me for you. Now, if I were to offer you another chance, will you promise me solemnly to behave so well that I may feel justified in having spared you?"

"I don't understand," said Tom, looking up.

"If I forgive you, and let you go back to duty, will you for the future do your best, and work willingly and well?"

"Forgive me? Do you mean that you won't flog me?"

"I do. At Gideon's earnest request, I have promised to overlook this offence. He answers for you, that for the future you will do better."

Tom staggered back, and, but for coming against the cabin door, would have fallen. His chest heaved; he covered his face with his hands and stood silent for a few moments. Then his arms fell; he straightened himself, and looked full in his captain's face.

"If ever I can die for you, or for Gideon, I'll do it, willing and free. It's not the pain—I'm not afraid of that—it's the shame of it. Yes, sir; I'll do my very best from this hour."

"Very good, Adderley. Take him with you, Terlizzeck. I'll give orders about him. Now, mind, Adderley; no more sulking."

"Never no more, sir," said Tom, half crying. "Oh, Gideon, you've saved my life."

From that hour, the only trouble with Tom Adderley was a fear that in his new-born zeal he would get himself killed by some too venturesome proceeding. As to the way in which his eyes followed the captain's movements, and the frequency of his "Yes, sir," even to the smallest mid, these were only to be equalled by his patience in listening to Gideon's reading, and to the rather long-winded and misty homilies the dear old man preached for his benefit. These poor Tom only dimly understood, but there was nothing he would not have done to please Gideon.

And he was surprised to find how much happier he was, too. He was busy, and every one was pleased with him. This was pleasanter than sulking and idling. Then, too, he felt the warmest gratitude to both Gideon and Captain Egerton. And, fallen as man is, there is this much of the original "Image" left in him—he is happier when his good feelings are called into play, than when his poor dark heart is full of hatred.

One day, about a fortnight or three weeks after Tom's release, the look-out man proclaimed that he saw a sail. Great was the excitement. Was it a Frenchman? But it proved to be a little English brig. "The wickedest little gun-brig in the service, and the sauciest," as old Gideon said, when she came near enough to be recognized—the "Warspite," commanded by a young lieutenant named Yeo, who signalled that he wanted to come on board and speak to Captain Egerton.

A little boat was soon spinning over the water, and Mr. Yeo came on board. He sprang up the side followed by a very small midshipman, who, with a somewhat older youth, represented Mr. Yeo's "officers."

"Look," whispered Gideon to Tom, "how Mr. Carteret and Mr. Bullen do gaze at Mr. Yeo."

"So I see. But why? Seems to me he's only a lieutenant, too."

"But has a separate command, Tom, and he only five and twenty. Nephew, he is, to our admiral. Our two junior lieutenants would give ten years to stand in his shoes. What's that? What are they cheering for?"

Gideon was cleaning the captain's fowling-piece, and did not like to leave it.

"I'll go forward and see," said Tom.

He came back with Greg Collier and a lot more of the men in a few minutes.

"Gideon, there's great news," said he.

"Eh, old Gid! What d'ye think? But we're at war with America!" cried Collier. "Think of 'that' for impudence, and she without a big ship belonging to her!"

"Well, well," said Gideon, "I be sorry. They can fight, I can tell you that; ay, as dogged as we can. And it do not seem Christian-like to kill and slay men as speaks English like ourselves."

"I don't know about that," said Collier. "But you're not the old Gid Terlizzeck if you don't feel your anger rise at the next bit of news. What do you think? But a Yankee frigate attacked the old 'Corinna,' thirty-four guns, Captain Harry Hervey—just let 'em know they was at war, and then went bang at her; ay, and towed her into New York after a blazin' fight. Captain badly wounded and a prisoner—he's out of the way. Then Admiral Sir George Kinnaird is dead—yellow Jack it was—and Captain Egerton, of this here blessed old 'Imogene,' is senior officer on the station, till a new admiral comes out."

"You don't say so, Collier!" cried Gideon. "Why, it's a great change for our captain. You do take my breath away."

"Three cheers for Captain Egerton!" shouted Tom, flinging his hat into the air with such good will that it went overboard, and probably disagreed terribly with the fishes.

But the men took up the cheers, and they were really hearty ones; and of all the spirit-stirring sounds that ever you will hear, three cheers coming from the hearts of a set of British sailors is the most stirring.

"We've not heard all the news yet," said Collier. "There's more to tell, or I'm a Dutchman."

"Yes," said another man, "Mr. Yeo, he told all that, for all to hear. And then he says, says he, 'What more I have to say is for your private ear, Captain Egerton.' And so they went to the captain's cabin."

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