THE SAUCIEST BOY IN THE SERVICE (continued 2)

"I wouldn't be too sure. But, I say, let us go below now, and I'll cook a nice comfortable bit of breakfast, and then we'll go on shore and spy out the land."

"That's it--spy out the land. We'll take our guns and creep from bush to bush like real wild Cuscorora Indians, and if we meet a savage we will say, 'O golly, foh true!' and he'll say 'Ugh!'"

"Well, here are some nice red herrings and hard biscuits, and preserved eggs and coffee."

"Any butter, waiter?" Kep was lively now.

"Yes, sir; butter, sir. Can't quite recommend it though. Has been to sea, sir, three times before."

These two shipwrecked mariners threw over a Jacob's ladder and descended one at a time. Adolph went first, but found he had to jump fully eight feet to the rock below.

"Hold on, Kep," he cried. "Don't you jump, else you will never get up again. Haul up the Jacob and lash a rope to it; we can shin up that."

The lad slung their rifles, and they found it easy enough to get up the rocks, though they were inhabited by malicious-looking snakes, who had come out to sun themselves.

Now, as I like to adhere most strictly to the truth, it is my duty to inform the reader that from a Crusoe point of view this island was a trifle disappointing.

First and foremost, it was only about two miles wide by three long, one bare and inhospitable-looking hill in the centre, which, from its conical shape and table-top, had doubtless been at one time, volcanic.

With the exception of this hill, all the rest of the land was covered with dense thick scrub and alive with snakes.

But there was a little lake of remarkably cool water, that was no doubt fed by springs from the higher and more hilly land they could see lying like clouds upon the horizon.

There was very little sand at the foot of the cliffs, so the mark of the savage's foot was not likely to be traced.

No inhabitants; nothing much to speak of in the fauna line, bar a species of rock rabbit and the snakes. Birds on the rocks though, and in some parts of the woods flowers of rare beauty.

"I'm disheartened, Adolph," said Kep.

"Yes; you look so."

Then the boy brightened up.

"I say, Adolph, my ancient mariner. Yonder is land, isn't there?"

"That is land. Bigger islands, I reckon, than ours."

"Well, it might be that Crusoes might come from there. And if there were too many we could retire to our ship and give them fits from over the bulwarks. I'm just spoiling for some fun, Adolph. Here, I know what I'll do. You saw that big grey snake that darted into a hole in yonder hillock? Well, just see if I can't entice him out again."

Out came the boy's piccolo. Down he sat, and began to play some melodies from Faust.

No effect.

"You'd better," said Adolph, "switch on Wagner."

Kep did, and the effect seemed magical. Not one, but three of these grey horrors appeared, and their horrid though graceful movements showed that for the time they were really fascinated.

"Come back on board," cried Adolph, "else I shall dream of these all night long."

I'm not sorry, however, that Kep did not find the Isle of Snakes altogether to his taste, because this is not a Crusoe story. Suffice it to say, after a few weeks they found the dead and awful monotony of the place almost unbearable. Moreover, there were but few books to read, no sport to speak of, and positively nothing to do.

But weeks and weeks passed by, and still came no sail in sight. They kept fires burning as much as they could, but neither the pillar of fire by night nor the pillar of smoke by day attracted anything.

Several times they thought they saw ships in the far distance, but looking at them through a telescope these turned out to be either floating sea-birds or the dorsal fins of some solitary basking shark, with birds perching on his back.

"Why," said Kep one day, "it is three whole months since we were cast away on this dreary shore, and never one single vessel has come near us. I tell you what it is, Dolphin, I am very weary of it all. Being a Crusoe is not half such good fun as I thought it would be."

"And I, too," said Adolph, "am weary."

"Tired of shooting those big tasteless rabbit-things; tired even of catching fish, though they are nice to eat, and so are rock oysters."

"But I say, Kep, I have a plan."

"Oh, have you? How delightful!"

"Well, you know we have had many a wild storm since we settled here, and you remember how the ship shook with the wind only last week."

"I won't forget that."

"No; and there is a bit of a list on her. She has heeled over a little to starboard."

"Yes."

"And the next storm that comes from the same direction will blow her over."

"Yes."

"Yes; and there where will we be, Kep?"

"Why, we'll be--we'll be blown over."

"You don't know the real danger, Kep. She won't simply heel over on her beam ends; she will go clean and clear over this cliff where the tidal wave drydocked her so neatly, and ten to one we will never get out again. We should be buried alive."

"Oh, I should hate being buried alive. Couldn't we find a cave somewhere among the cliffs here, and shift our camp, in case of an accident."

"But," said Adolph, "I have found one already. Yesterday, when you were fishing from a boulder; only, you know----"

"What, only?"

"There will be the snakes to contend with."

"Yes; that is it, and they're thicker than the rock-rabbits. Do you think," he added, "I could lure them away somewhere with my little flute, and murder them?"

"Well, you might try; only don't let them get too familiar with you, else they'll follow you everywhere, and get into your bed at night."

"We can do our best, anyhow, Adolph. A fire in the cave to begin with would start them. Whatever men dare they can do. And there is nothing charms these snakes like Wagner."

"Umph! Wagner never charmed me, Kep."

"It's all a matter of idiosyncracy, comrade. It wouldn't do if we all went in for Bach or Beethoven nor even for 'Annie Laurie.' But now let us go on shore and see that cave of yours. A change is what we both need."

CHAPTER VII

SUNKEN GOLD--JACK'S CAREER IN SIDNEY

"The cave seems first class," cried Kep, looking round him delightedly. "We shall be troglodytes now, Adolphus."

"What are they? some kind of frog aren't they?"

"No, people who live in caves, although frogs might be troglodytes, and sometimes are."

They now set to work at once. Though, to begin with, Kep tried Wagner just outside the cave. No snakes came out to dance, but behind them they heard a hissing noise, and found about half a score of the terrible reptiles had come from other rocks to be entertained. So that plan wouldn't work.

The cave was about half-way up the cliff, so, withered wood being very plentiful, a lot was gathered, and a big fire lighted in the centre of the floor of the place, Kep and Adolph taking good care to get outside when it began to crackle and burn.

But they stood by with fowling pieces, and as the reptiles came hurrying out, they took pot-shots, and killed quite a heap of them.

The ants of the shore picked the bones of these bare in two hours' time.

When the fire was out, and the cave swept, they set about getting things on shore, principally hammocks, provisions, a small cooking stove, boxes of candles, and in fact everything usually needed to make life enjoyable in tents.

They slept on board that night, and it took all next day to finish furnishing.

They slung hammocks and passed next night in the cave. But I cannot say that, after the light was put out, Kep felt particularly comfortable. He had an eerie creepie-creepie feeling, and more than once ere morning felt sure that serpents were crawling over him. Towards morning he put down his hand and touched something cold and round, He started with a shriek, and next moment heard the thud of something falling on the floor.

He had brought an electric telescope-shaped flashlight with him, and placed it in the hammock, and early in the morning--he hadn't slept again--he looked down, and saw it lying on the soft floor. So that was Kep's poisonous serpent.

Only the place seemed so hideously associated with these scaly horrors, that both Adolph and he made up their minds to use it only by day, and continue for a time to bunk aboard at night, taking all risks.

But they slept soundly. The ship had never moved.

It was Kep's turn next day to be struck with a new idea. He believed it possible, he said, to get out the one remaining boat, and pass her, by means of the davits over the side. Luckily, the latter had been left by the hurricane in good working order.

Kep was very strong and hard for his age, and Adolphus was a man. Yet it took many hours to overcome the difficulties they had to encounter. Things had been terribly jammed and knocked about, but at last the boat hung straight, and clear right over the rocks and then they began cautiously to lower away.

It was found, after all, that the ropes or guys running through the blocks were not long enough. The boat hung twixt heaven and earth, like Mahomed's coffin.

There was nothing for it but to haul up again, and belay.

But further operations were stayed by fatigue and hunger, so they went on shore to dine in the cave.

Adolphus was cook, and there was some splendid fish to-day, to broil or roast over a clear fire, and they had found some plantains in a grove on the other side of the island. Of course there was very little romance about Adolph just at present, there never is when one is cooking in either cave or camp. But the day was so dreamily beautiful that the glamour of old ocean held Kep spell-bound. There was brightness and music everywhere; the brightness of sun on wave, the azure blue of the cloudless sky, the wild music of seabirds, and the music of the sea itself, breaking listlessly, drowsily on the rocks.

The boy seated himself high on a boulder, that was shaped for all the world like an arm-chair, and the white-winged gulls swept nearer and nearer as he played "Low and sweet, Sweet and low."

A song of Bret Harte's came into his mind as he watched the birds. Only a simple thing. As simple and sweet as the soul of the bard himself.

Sauntering hither on listless wings,

Careless vagabond of the sea,

Little thou heed'st the surf that sings,

The bar that thunders, the shale that rings.

Little thou hast, old friend, that's new,

Storms and wrecks are old things to thee,

Sick am I of those changes too;

Little to care for, little to rue,

I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

Lazily rocking on ocean's breast,

Something in common old friend have we;

Thou on the shingle seek'st thy nest,

I to the waters look for rest,

I on the shore, thou on the sea.

But Kep now began to think, to dream of home. What a long, long time had elapsed, reckoning by events, since he sailed away from the white cliffs of England. What would his brave, proud father be doing at this moment, and dear Madge and her playmate Bounder; Madge would be missing her letters, she would be praying for him too, every night. Wonder if ever she went up alone to his turret chamber, high above the waving elms. Wonder if Bob, the great white owl, ever came more now to look in of a night, or if he had forgotten Kep entirely. Wonder how long it would take a sea gull to fly to England. If he had wings he wondered if--if----

"Koo--ee--ee!"

He started to his feet. He had fallen asleep in that grey old arm-chair.

"Koo-ee!"

"Coming, Adolph; coming, comrade, coming?"

That dinner was very good to eat.

But now they gat them back to the ship, and it took all the afternoon to lengthen the guys, by splicing on additional pieces, for the work had to be very strong to stand the strain.

The boat was lowered and launched next day, and it really was new life for them to paddle around the coast in her.

The boat was anchored in a little cove every night now, and in her they slept. It was a capital arrangement, and they had no more bother with the snakes.

But on nights when the sea was rough--which was not very often, because when it blew, it did so in dead earnest, and soon had done with it--they hauled her well up on the sand, and slept peacefully as usual.

They went to the hill-top almost every day--but no, no, no, they never saw a sail, and they began to think they would live and die on Great Snake Island.

But as far as the boat was concerned, they grew bolder and bolder.

They stepped a little mast and a brief jib-boom, and set sail therein, and when the wind was favourable went quite a long way out. At last they determined to visit the far off and greater island. So one day, when the wind was favourable, they loaded up with everything needful, hoisted their canvas and started.

They had taken their rifles and plenty of ammunition with them, but Kep prayed that they might not have to use them.

This prayer was heard. But they found no savages on the islands, which they reached at last, nor was there any other land visible all the wide horizon around.

So they slept in their boat as usual, and next day set out to explore, and to climb the hills.

Everything most unsatisfactory. No beauty nor romance anywhere, except that of the sea itself.

So they determined to return next morning. But the wind had died down to a perfect calm, which held for three days, the stars at night blazing with a brilliancy such as Kep had never witnessed before in all his long life, of "fourteen years, and begun again."

On the third day of their imprisonment on this new island the sun shone with greater fierceness than ever, and Kep, who was a most daring swimmer and diver, stripped and dashed head first from a rock, down, down fathoms and fathoms into a blue-green pool beneath.

For just three minutes this boy had trained himself to hold his breath beneath the water. At the bottom he clutched at and held on to something, and for seconds remained motionless.

But what had he clutched at? Why, it was a piece of shell-encrusted iron--a ring-bolt. He stood on the deck of a sunken ship, and one, too, of olden build, and olden times.

All thought of returning to Great Snake Island was for the time abandoned, and about once an hour, until quite exhausted, Kep dived down, and each time returned to the surface with something strange and stranger to tell. She had sea-worn guns on board. She looked like an old Spanish galleon, or a pirate, or a specie ship.

This last guess proved to be right; for the wreckage about the decks proved that the seamen, whoever they may have been, had tried to save heavy boxes, and from the side of one of these, a piece of gold had fallen, only a small bar, but this the boy took up with him.

He was tremendously excited. "Oh Adolph!" he cried, "we have discovered a treasure ship."

"You have, Kep, not I."

"But we shall be rich, Adolph. Rich beyond compare. In that blue-green pool millions may be awaiting us. Are you not glad?"

"We'll get back to our Island of Snakes, Kep, and when the ship that must come some day, arrives, they will tell us the latitude and longitude, which at present we can't even guess. Then, some day, perhaps--we may return and raise the gold. But there is many a slip, Kep, twixt the cup and the lip."

Kep wouldn't hear of slips and lips; he was very young and very buoyant. Yet he had grit in him. "Look here, Adolph," he said, "I'm a man of determination. If ever we leave these regions alive, depend upon it we shall return. This is as certain as sunrise. So there!"

Well, the boy really said what he thought, and meant all he said.

A fair wind at last, rather much of it, but life had suddenly become more joyful and hopeful, and they had no fear, when they hoisted their jib and little mainsail, that they would get safely across.

But, alas! the wind changed almost suddenly, and they had to tack. This was slow work, and dangerous too, for they shipped much water, and had they not baled and kept on baling, their boat would have been swamped.

Darkness came on. They had nothing now to guide them, for they had not thought of bringing a compass.

They had the electric lantern, a strong one, and this they flashed from time to time across the awful sea, the waves of which looked doubly dreadful in the darkness.

It must have been some time past midnight, when suddenly Kep clutched at his comrade's arm.

"Adolph, Adolph! O God! what is that?"

It was a light. No, but lights, steadily advancing towards them.

They shouted now, yelled and shrieked, and flashed their light.

Was it seen? Were they heard? Yes, yes, even as God Himself hears prayer.

In less than ten minutes they were on board a strange Australian-bound ship, and telling their marvellous adventures to passengers and crew. But, it is needless to say, that one portion of their adventures they kept silent about, the discovery of the sunken treasure.

And more of sunken gold, I do believe, lies in the sea, or hidden on islands, than we are aware of.

In dim green depths rot ingot laden ships,

While gold doubloons, that from the drowned hand fell,

Lie nestled to the ocean-flowers' bell

With love's gemmed rings once kissed by now dead lips.

And round some wrought-gold cup, the sea-grass whips,

And hides lost pearls, near pearls still in their shell,

Where sea-weed forests fill each ocean dell,

And seek dim sunlight with their countless tips.

But adventures so terrible were not altogether credited by the skipper of the Wampiri, nor by his few passengers either. Else the probability is, that the former would have gone some distance out of his way to salvage a portion of the Macbeth's cargo.

He was on a passage, and bad weather had blown him considerably out of his way. It would have been folly, therefore, to have delayed.

This ship was outward bound, and had rounded the Horn, and was under all sail for Adelaide and Sidney.

Sidney, why, the very name of the place made Kep's heart jump for joy. The Breezy might be there!

Both Adolph and Kep lived forward with the men, and were very snugly bunked indeed. They had come to like each other very much, and Kep felt a little sad when he thought that in the ordinary course of things they might soon be parted. In one thing they swore to each other to be true. Namely, that neither should divulge the secret of the ingot-laden ship unless the other consented. Something grand might come of this secret, but it must, for the present, be theirs and theirs only.

Once more, even in the Wampiri, Kep's flute found him friends. The ship was a clipper of an almost obsolete type, and really belonged to one old man. She was good enough to have had engines put into her, but her owner, who had been at sea himself in his younger days, would not hear of his beautiful white-winged ship being turned into a blessed smoke-jack, and she never would be.

Suffice it to say, she got there all the same, and so Kep and his comrade were at last safely landed at Sidney.

And this beautiful and busy city, with its beautiful and busy great harbour, crowded with the ships of all nations, its streets thronged with well dressed people, its spacious public buildings, and its street cars, what a change all was from life on the lonesome ocean, and the death-life of those inhospitable and barren islands.

How Kep, in his boyish gratitude, thanked God for all He had done for them.

Sidney, but no Breezy.

And yet, somewhere in or about these seas, or on the shore of Eastern Africa, or the coral coast of New Guinea itself, something told Kep that the Breezy was. He had never forgotten the kind smiling face of the young lieutenant, who had taken him down to the wardroom; no, nor the reception that had been accorded him by the crew forward. He still harboured the impression that his fate would be to get appointed to the Breezy in some capacity or another.

But now he remembered that he must seek for employment of some kind. He had some money left, but this he shared with Adolph. He could not see his comrade badly off, and they meant to try hard to get berths in the same ship again.

It would have been easy for Adolph to book as steward's assistant, or even as steward in some homeward bound ship, but no one seemed to need Kep's peculiar talents.

His appointment to the Macbeth appeared to him, now, to have been but a fluke. Heigho! would he ever make such a fluke again.

Adolph got a position at last, as waiter in a good hotel, and Keppel Drummond, the son of a lord of an English manor, a place--as what? Why, as a boy to clean the knives and run messages at a neighbouring restaurant.

What a downfall! But really, such downfalls, if in cases such as Kep's they can be called so, are by no means uncommon in Australia. And, after all, honest work is no disgrace.

So he kept up his heart, and was happy, and even hopeful--wasn't the Breezy coming some day. He had written to Madge during the voyage in the Wampiri, a mail-bag from which went home by a passing steamer. He had told her all his joys, but never a word about the horrors of the Macbeth. He would not shock her.

He was expecting a letter almost every day, and the time seemed long indeed. But then anything might have happened to prevent the delivery of his own letter to her. The address he had given was simply Poste Restante, Sidney. He went there every day for weeks, and noticing his woe-begone expressive face, a kindly clerk at last took pity on him, and promised in the event of a letter coming, to forward it at once to his lodgings.

But wonders will never cease, and one day, while hurrying to send off a telegram, who should Kep see coming, swinging along the street on the opposite pavement, but Jack Stormalong himself.

What a happy meeting! Kep begged a whole day off, namely, that evening and next forenoon, and he got it too.

"I knew we'd meet, my little friend. By the way, is your name still Bowser. And you haven't repented yet, and become a prodigal son."

"Well, I can't easily be a prodigal son, Jack, on ten shillings a week, and a tip once in a blue moon. But how is Katie and her mother?"

"Splendidiferous sonny, simply splendidiferous. Going to get married at the end of my time."

"Why, I thought I was going to marry Katie, and that you would marry the mother!"

Jack laughed so heartily that people looked at him and laughed too.

"You precockshious boy! But hold on a few years, my youngkie, and we'll raise and rear another Katie specially for you."

"But how came you here, Jack?"

"Well, you know, I couldn't well walk, and I like this station, so I volunteered like for the Newt, and yonder's the Newt, two guns, square and trig, and a regular one to jump the seas. And I'm one of the gunners, and good pay too. You've just got to wait a bit, and something will turn. Oh yes, sonny, something is sure to turn up. I say, though--I--I--that is, I am overflowing with useless money, lad, can I give you some?"

"Oh, thanks, a thousand times, Jack, but no, it ain't pride, Jack, it ain't pride. But I've sworn to work up the rigging of life without a helping hand, and I mean to do it. Why, Jack, since I saw you last, I've learned another language--the Arabic," he added.

"Why, you be a freak, sonny, and Jack Stormalong is proud to know you. And you've still the little black flute, and its ribbon blue. Strike me lucky, lad, if I don't think you have a bit of a sweetheart in Old England."

Kep was merry to-day, madly merry.

"Look here, Jack, I've never done such a thing before, but just for a lark, I'll try the passers-by with a bit of Wagner, and see the effect. You stand by, will you? Don't laugh, but I've charmed snakes before to-day."

Kep was in beautiful form. He stood a yard or two off the pavement, it was a rather quiet street, and began.

Then goodness me, readers, how the music and melodies of the great composer did bubble and gush, and ripple and rush, from out the little black flute! He had a well-dressed crowd of listeners around him in a brace of shakes.

He finished off with a low, sweet, mournful air, that thrilled the listeners. Then, with downcast eyes and face a little red, he appeared to be putting back the flute in order to walk away.

"Here," cried a gentlemen in the crowd, "none of that. Over-modesty never pays, boy."

Off came his straw hat. He tossed a big silver bit into it, Jack threw in a shilling, and in less than a minute at least, five shillings found its way into the boy's pocket from out that hat.

But Kep's face was like a burning coal now. He bowed and thanked all hands, and Jack was following Kep, when the same gentleman tapped him on the shoulder.

"You seem to know the lad?"

"Yes, and his story too."

"Give me his address, there's a good sailor man."

Jack did so, and neither he nor Kep thought any more about it.

"By the way," said the latter, as if it did not matter much whether he received an answer or not, "ever hear anything about the Breezy?"

"Why," cried Jack, "the Breezy has been on this station for months, or here and hereabouts. She is going to do big licks," he added, "when the time comes, the Breezy is."

Well, they spent some jolly hours together, and as long as the Newt was in the harbour, they managed to see each other every evening.

But one day, soon after the street adventure, a gentleman called and asked to see Kep. He was the same who had collected the coin for the boy that day on which he had played on the street.

Very straight and business-like was this Mr. Howe, and concluded the interview in a few minutes.

"Wanted to know if you can manage to come to my house at seven, and play a bit to my wife and me."

Kep told him he would be very pleased indeed to do so.

"Here is my card then."

And this is what came of it. Kep was engaged at one of the best music halls in the city, to play solos, and not only this, but to tell in his own simple language, the terribly tragic story of the ship Macbeth, at a salary of three pounds a week.

Few believed the terrible tale. People seldom will believe what is true; but flowing so winningly and well from the lips of the handsome dark-eyed sailor boy, it was a bait.

Kep cleaned no more knives nor boots.

But his music hall career came to a conclusion almost as suddenly as it had commenced. Anyhow, his old pal, Jack Stormalong, had brought him good luck, and things looked brighter now, for he had a letter from his sister, and the Breezy came in.

CHAPTER VIII

A BREEZY SHIP, A BREEZY CAPTAIN, AND A BREEZY CREW

A sailor is quite within his rights in boasting about his ship. So is an author. Well I modestly advance that I have some little claim to be called sailor and author both. You must forgive me, then, if I do brag a little about my ship--the Breezy, and presently I will tell you how she came to be known by that name. Even a landsman would naturally conclude that a craft with such a name must be an airy and brisk little bit of steel. A naval officer might possibly think twice before coming to any such conclusion, for I myself have known tubs of things with pretty high-sounding "tallies," built let us say for coast defence, that went snorting and snoring round our shores, with the water gurgling up their "nostrils," as a boy once called the hawse-holes, and out of which no commander ever yet succeeded in knocking eight knots an hour.

But on the other hand our British Navy ships are generally well-named. The small craft have wicked wee names, and many are called after insects and birds. In my own earlier days in the service there was a Wasp, and she was a wasp too, and made it hot many and many a time for gentlemen Arab slave dhows.

Well, there is a Hornet to-day, a 240-ton torpedo destroyer. And a twin-screw gunboat yclept the Kite. A bigger one is the Landrail, and of course there is a Locust and a Lively and a Lizard. You get to something higher when you find the Orion, higher and heavier is the Hawke. But such names as the Implacable 15,000 tons, the Irresistible, the Majestic, or Bulwark thrill you to the marrow if it be a soul you have at all and not a gizzard.

I love that name Bulwark. It is grand. It is ringing, and brings to your memory the most splendid sea poem that has ever been written,

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep.

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,

Her home is on the deep.

Well, Britannia has one Bulwark, and woe betide the first enemy's ship she talks to in anger.

But about the Breezy. You won't find her in the present Navy List because you are supposed to be reading a story of 1907. Yet, for all that, I have to use the past sense.

Well, Jack the ordinary seaman, or Able seaman, I mean--doesn't like a long name. So when this war-vessel was nearly all ready to slip off into the water a name had to be sought for her, and somebody suggested Briareus.

"Sounds well," said the Admiral, father of the little tottie who was going to baptize her, touch a button and let her go free.

"Sounds well," he said, "but what was Briareus?"

"Oh," was the answer, "he was a terrible Greek giant of bygone times, who wandered over the mountains and by the sad sea shore and was possessed of one hundred arms, and fifty heads."

"My word," said the Admiral, "he must have been a bruiser!"

"Well, Admiral, if he had fifty heads the probability is that he had nearly a hundred eyes, though a few of them had no doubt got knocked out, but for all that he must have been able to see well. And this ship is built for special surveying service, do you understand, sir.

"Capital! Briareus? A hundred eyes. First rate!"

There was only one hitch, and, not for the life of her could little Marie remember the word, though she lay awake half the night saying it over and over to herself.

She thought she had it at last, yet when the time came and just at the last moment, as one of the smartest sailors was holding her up in his arms to enable her to push the button, she forgot it again.

"Oh, what is it dear sailor," she whispered.

And Jack whispered too. "Call her the Breezy, my love, and be blowed to her."

And to the astonishment of everyone near by, Marie lisped out these very words: "The Breezy and be blowed to her."

* * * * *

Now when the Breezy left Plymouth Sound she was starting on her very first cruise--newly commissioned.

She had new guns, six of them; none very large but all fearful spitfires. She was steel--steel all over, but this same steel whether in masts, or tops, or decks, or plates, was a new invention, and to all intents and purposes impenetrable. There was no wood about her that was inflammable, and the officers' cabins were lined with a species of newly invented papier-maché, which by itself could resist rifle bullets. But above all, the marines or bluejackets who might be wanted to fight in exposed positions had light shields and breast-plates of this same marvellous material.

The Breezy was going surveying, but she had moreover special diving machines, of which more anon.

I have always looked upon a ship as a living, sensitive thing, and it seems right to call her "she," especially if she is sprightly and beautiful and obeys her helm well (I was very nearly saying "obeys her husband").

I am sure of one thing; that when on that bright and sunny morning the Breezy went clipping through the water and heading for the waves, she knew she was the cynosure of all eyes and every opera glass on the Hoe. She was as proud as a girl with a pink silk petticoat, as a sailor observed.

* * * * *

They were all young in the Breezy's wardroom, and the Commander himself, who, as befitted his rank lived in solitary grandeur in his quarters farther aft, was considerably under thirty.

To a great extent the grey-beards, as they were somewhat irreverently called, were cleared out of the Service as far as smaller ships on foreign stations were concerned. That is they had been placed on the retired list.

It was found that old men, though possessed of more experience, more grey matter on the brain, were hardly active enough in their lower extremities. They had the courage right enough, but they were somewhat deficient in dash and go.

In the wardroom there lived and moved and ate their beef, two lieutenants, a marine officer usually called our "soldier," the engineer lieutenant, the assistant pay-master in charge, and last, but certainly not least, for he stood six feet one inch in his home made hose--the Surgeon.

When I tell you that the Captain--a Commander he really was in rank--was one of the jolliest round-faced and boyish-looking officers in the service, you will understand how pleasant it was to sail with him.

But his name was, or rather had been, Brazier before he took over the Breezy.

"Don't much like that name," said Jack Jewell, a sturdy built A.B. "Do you, Tom?"

Tom Davis said, "No, I don't either."

"Let's boil him down, Tom."

"Boil away, Jack."

So Captain Brazier was allowed to simmer a while in the brains of Jack Jewell, and lo! he came to the top of the pot as Captain Breezy. The name worked gradually aft. The boatswain got hold of it, the gunners also, then the officers and skipper himself.

The Captain didn't mind it a bit.

Captain Breezy of H.M.S. Breezy sounded smart. From bowsprit, then, to binnacle the Breezy really was a smart ship.

Surgeon McTavish, M.D., of the great Northern University of Aberdeen, had been the very last officer to join the ship. He came soon after Kep had left on the day of his visit.

Everyone had been wondering what manner of man the surgeon would turn out to be, and small innocent bets were made on the subject.

Mr. Sneyd, the assistant-paymaster, who was small himself, and wore a little nut-cracker of a face that would have done for a door-knocker, betted he was a short chap and red-haired, and couldn't speak intelligible English.

The marine officer said he was blue-faced and bulbous-nosed.

The engineer lieutenant thought that he could not know much, coming from so heathenish a country as Scotland.

"I don't bet," said Bertram Wynn, the first lieutenant, "but let me tell you, gentlemen, that proportionately more clever and scientific men come from the Scottish Universities than from any three English ones put together."

Well, at all events it was evident that his would-be messmates did not expect a very great deal out of the doctor. He would be disappointing.

His traps came on board hours before he himself did.

Little Mr. Sneyd came down below with very big eyes in his head.

"By gum!" he cried. "I've seen the doctor's traps and I've lost my little bet. Run in to his cabin, Sodjer, and see them."

The marine officer, who was still very young and therefore obedient, disappeared.

"Well, Sodjer?"

"I'm puzzled. Guess I'll lose my bet. Here are some of his things that I saw his servant putting away.

"Item:--Two Highland broadswords.

"Item:--A full kilt Highland dress, including dirks and sporrans, brogues and a bonnet and crest, and skean dhu mounted in cairngorm. (The kilt is presumedly a clan McTavish tartan one.)

"Item:--A set of great Highland bagpipes."

"Oh, Lord!" cried Guilford the second lieutenant, putting his fingers mechanically to his ears, "go on, Sodjer."

"Item:--A pair of dumb-bells, the fellows you've got to put up you know--80 lbs. each. And," added Sodjer, "my bet's lost, for no man with a bulbous nose could put up things like that."

"Heave round, Sodjer. Anything more?"

"Item:--About fifty volumes of scientific books including the British Encyclopædia."

"My bet's lost!" This from the engineer while the first lieutenant smiled.

"Item:--A ram's head snuff box. Twisted horns, tips mounted with silver and cairngorm.

"Item:--A big Bible. It is very likely--

"'The big ha' Bible ance his father's pride.'"

Well, when the surgeon himself did appear, he certainly commanded respect. He was handsome as well as well-built. Indeed among the others he appeared a perfect Hercules as he undoubtedly was an athlete.

Englishmen cannot help admiring an athlete no matter what his nation may be. Then his uniform fitted him well. He appeared to have been melted and poured into it, while little Sneyd's seemed to have been put on with the aid of a hay fork.

The surgeon's smile was a winning one, and there was a quintessence of kindliness lying half asleep in his dark-blue eyes that was very pleasant to behold.

He saluted the first lieutenant most respectfully, and the two men shook hands.

"Glad you've come at last, Surgeon McTavish We shall be friends. You are, I hear, a man of scientific attainments, and I dabble in science myself a little."

In the mess that evening Sneyd had said--

"Look here McTavish, I owe you an apology. I thought no good thing could come out of Nazareth--I mean Aberdeen, but now I cave in."

"Well spoken! Bravo, Sneyd," cried the others. Indeed there was a murmur of approbation all round the table. Sneyd was manly and truly English despite his queer little face.

But McTavish stood up. There was moisture in his eyes. But he stretched out across the table an arm half a fathom long and shook little Sneyd by the hand.

Sneyd suppressed a cry of pain, and there came moisture into his eyes next, though its origin was not quite the same.

The Breezy was to be something more than a mere surveying ship and that is the reason why her officers were one and all chosen from the best young fellows in the Service.

For Britain even now was--well apparently drifting gradually into war, and though the Admiralty believed it would be averted, a good deal of what might be called naval police work would devolve upon the Breezy. She had to be watchful and her duty would not consist entirely in sounding and chart-making.

The surgeon's cabin was not very large, but his books were, and of scientific instruments he possessed not a few. However there was the dispensary at his disposal and Lieut. Wynn also offered him space for books in his own cabin. So McTavish was soon very happy and quite settled down.

It was a merry mess, although very little wine was consumed except when guests came off, as they did at Madeira, St. Helena, Ascension and the Cape.

The middies' mess was just as jolly, and had five right hearty young lads in it, ready at any time to do anything for anybody or for their country.

In this year of 1907 pass exams for the Service were stricter than ever. There was a splendid staff of men at headquarters, and they would only have the crême de la crême.

Well, although nobody except the captain and first lieutenant were supposed to know what the Breezy's special instructions were, her duties were soon an open secret.

German ships of war were careering about and along both the west and east coasts of Africa. They wanted looking after. Then marvellous to say the Sultan of Zanzibar had somehow become very wealthy--diamond mines--and had built himself a really smart navy. But his ships were sentinels to the British Government for all that. It was deemed good and wise for Britain to have a scout fleet like this within jumping distance of India and the Red Sea.

The Admiralty had learned experience since 1904 and were making use of it.

They were, as every great nation should be, on the outlook for future eventualities. So, long before they reached the Cape everyone on board the Breezy had quite settled down into his place, and all the officers felt at home. Moreover they all knew each other thoroughly by this time, and knew each other's points of character also, whether hard or soft.

It is a good thing on board a ship during a long commission for officers to be like brothers. They are together in sunshine and in storm, in peace and in danger. Moreover, they ought to respect even each other's foibles.

With so kind a captain and one so interested in the welfare of those under his command the Breezy promised from the very first to be a little community afloat, all willing to please and be pleased, and to adhere strictly in discipline and etiquette to the rules and regulations of the King's Navy.

As they were all young they naturally wanted to, and were determined to, see everything there was to be seen at every port.

They were treated well wherever they went, and if they stayed but a week at a place there was some social function or another every day, and sometimes twice. Dances and dinners, picnics, cricket-matches, or football-matches, fishing parties, shooting parties, or anything the Breezies, as they came to be called, were always in it.

Sometimes, too, they gave a dinner and a dance on board, and this was a real merry evening for all concerned.

Sailors, let me tell you reader, are far more hearty and as a rule better liked at ball or party than soldiers.

Sailors come and sailors go, but soldiers keep on for ever. The poor you have always with you. It is hardly fair of me to speak so perhaps, and I hope to be forgiven.

Well, the Breezy steamed up the East Coast of Africa and began work in earnest. They visited the Sultan and the Sultan's fleet and were very much struck with all they saw, and had a deal of as good fun as they could ever hope to enjoy.

About Madagascar and the Mauritius they did much surveying work, and after several months they were ordered to Australia.

By this time the Surgeon and Lieutenant Wynn had become almost indispensable to each other. Both were scientists. Indeed the lieutenant was studying hard for his D.Sc. (Doctor of Science), and there is no doubt that he would attain it.

In this year of 1907 and 8 the Admiralty at home had found the utility of always putting a round peg into a round hole, and not into a square one. The days of promotion by seniority alone were gone by and every officer knew that his own merits would score more than influence with big wigs at home. Good officers can only be had through a process of evolution. You cannot make them to order.

And it was just the same with the men forward. A smart boy who honoured discipline was certain of soon having stripes upon his sleeve that brought him respect, even when he went on a spell of leave back to the humble country village where his mother and father lived, and that necessity of life to a handsome young sailor--his little girl.

Talk of the Navy changing. The ships may change and do change, and will keep on changing about every ten years, but Jack himself--Oh never.

He is still the handy man, and still the British heart of oak. "No laggard in love, no dastard in war," is your bold Jack Tar.

CHAPTER IX

THROUGH THE HAWSE HOLE

To the Temple of Varieties in the city of Sidney went one evening the young and rather girlish-faced marine officer, Surgeon McTavish, and Lieutenant Guilford all from the Breezy, in order to hear a good song. Only in mufti were they of course, but Mac's mufti was the Highland dress and a grand appearance it gave this bold and scientific Scot.

Indeed Mac's servant was a Scot, Sandie Reid was his name, and whenever the doctor told him to lay out his mufti it was the kilt and sporran he got ready.

"I meant English mufti," said the doctor to him one evening.

"You'll hae that or damn the thing else?" replied Sandie with the determination of a Scottish servant who loved his master. "You're no' goin to give Sandie Reid a red face by seein' his master's bonnie Hielan legs rammed into leathern drain-pipes. If ye do, ye'll hae to seek an English servant."

The first day that the surgeon put on the Highland garb to go on shore in was at St. Helena. The officers going on shore were waiting on the quarterdeck for the boat and talking and laughing, when little Sneyd the A.P. with the door-knocker countenance came up from below.

Now Sneyd was sometimes in a nasty temper and when he was so he was apt to be a little offensive.

He had got out of his bunk that day at the wrong side perhaps, but when he saw McTavish arrayed in the tartan of his clan, he pretended to be startled, stepped back a pace or two and looked at him up and down.

"Is this the twentieth century?" he cried, "and do you mean to say that the captain will allow one of his officers to go on shore dressed in that uncivilized semi-savage costume?"

Then suddenly pretending to be heroic, "Oh, I forgot the romance of Walter Scott," he said.

"Ne'er in battle-field beats heart more brave,

Than that which beats beneath the Scottish kilt."

McTavish laughed. But Sneyd sneered. His shot hadn't hit the bull's eye.

"I suppose," he said, "like most Scots that join our Service, you're the only gentleman in your family, Mr. McTavish." This was mean, for the doctor's family were really only honest crofter folk.

"That's hitting beneath the belt," cried the engineer.

"Apologise, Sneyd."

And the others shouted for an apology.

"I refuse," said Sneyd.

"The reason being," said McTavish quietly, "that there wasn't even one gentleman in Sneyd's family."

"Bravo, McTavish. Bravo!"

But McTavish wasn't quite done with little Sneyd.

"What's your weight, Sneyd?"

"Well, doctor," replied the A.P., conscious now that he had gone too far, "just nine stone."

"Pooh! that's nothing. I can put up 200 lbs." And before Sneyd knew what was up, the surgeon had seized him by the collar of his upper garments and stood erect holding the little man straight over the sea.

"For God's sake let me down. Lower me. Lower me. I apologise!"

"Do you see the blue shark that has been following our ship for days?"' cried McTavish.

"I see the blue devil. Do lower me, for mercy's sake."

Next moment the doctor stood him on the deck.

He did apologise now, and all was forgiven.

"Lower me," he had shouted while suspended over the sea, and everyone admitted that on the whole he had been lowered considerably. Yet Sneyd when not in the pet was really one of the best little men in the ship.

But about this night on shore? Well, in due course Kep came on the stage, most takingly dressed in the uniform of a middy of the Merchant Service.

He seemed to see no one, and probably he didn't; but he told his story--that tragedy of the sea which now was improved by appropriate scenery--the lantern.

His performance received round after round of applause, and when he returned with his piccolo, and said laughing, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to play you the very Sonata from Wagner, with which I used to charm the snakes," the cheering was renewed. He was recalled three times.

The last time he played a sweetly melancholy melody from Faust, and when he had finished and during the appreciation lull, he drew his sleeve across his eyes as if to wipe away a tear.

"I've got a little gal in England, ladies, and that's how."

Then he bowed himself prettily off the stage.

"But I say, McTavish," cried young Guilford, "you're positively looking a bit pale."

"I'm taken aback," said the doctor. "I've met that boy, if boy he be, before. At Nice I think. But it is but a fancied resemblance I can now see to a charming Italian girl I knew for an all too brief period of my existence."

"Well, I happen to know the lad," said Guilford. "That is the boy Bowser. He came on board the day before we sailed, and he did make all hands laugh I assure you, and you should have seen our fellows dancing. We'll stroll round to the green room and see him." And so they did.

They knocked. "May we come in for one minute?" said Guilford.

"You do us honour. British Naval Officers are welcome everywhere," answered Mr. Howe.

Then Kep came blushing up, and Guilford shook him squarely by the hand. This is young Charlie Bowser, Dr. McTavish. He is down in the play bills as Gerald Montmorency.

"I say, Charlie, can you come off to-morrow evening? I'll send a boat."

"It must be at nine then, sir, after I get done here."

Charlie alias Kep, or Gerald Montmorency, did come off, and great things happened. He didn't get home till twelve, but that really didn't matter.

He made an impression again, for he was not only a freak with the piccolo, but the piano also, and he was a marvel from a linguistic point of view.

Just before he left he had another interview with Lieutenant Guilford.

"I've spoken to our Captain," he said, "and if you are still of the same mind I can get you a berth. Can you play in our little band?

"I can lead, but would rather not join the Service, sir, to be rated as a bandsman. But," he added quickly, "it is the dream of my life to be in this same beautiful ship. Oh, I shed tears, sir, when you sailed past and left me on the Hoe. Yet I leave myself entirely in your hands." He was smiling merrily as he added, "I can clean knives and boots, sir."

"Your name isn't Bowser."

"It must remain so."

"You ran away from home."

"Yes, sir, but I won't run back, till I've seen the world and done something. My mind is made up."

"You are fifteen?"

"Nigh on it."

"You are of good birth. I believe you, your manners are quite a model. Will you tell us your real name?"

"I promise to do so, I will do so sine dubio, sed sine die.[1] When you left, sir," he continued, "I just stuck a pin in a page of Bradshaw's Guide, and it struck the West Indies. And thither I went. So you see. I came into the merchant service ad aperturam libri."

[1] Without a doubt, but without appointing a day.

"Through the hawse-hole. Eh?"

"That is it, sir. And here I am as willing as ever to make myself useful."

"But you are leaving a good thing. What do they pay you at the Variety Hall?"

"Oh, three pounds a week. But I get tips from gentlemen and lots of kisses from sweet ladies. Then I share some of my money with Adolph."

"And who may Adolph be?"

"Oh, he is head waiter at the C---- Hotel. He was steward of the Macbeth, and my comrade through all that terrible time on Great Snake Island."

"Then the mutiny and all that is really true, Charlie?"

"Yes sir, though the plebs hardly believe it, and I do love Adolph very much. An Austrian he is, sir, but we talk in French."

"Well, we have a berth open for your comrade, Charlie, and we'd like, but it is a matter of business.--We couldn't give you £3 a week, and there are no sweet ladies on board to shower kisses on you."

"Oh, sir," said Kep laughing, "I can easily go on shore for the kisses."

"We are going back to Africa again to make the slave-dealers hum, and there we need an interpreter, but he must understand Spanish and Portuguese as well as Arabic."

"Hurrah! Pardon me, Lieutenant Guilford, but I couldn't really help saying 'Hurrah!' I'm as good as rated--interpreter to H.M.S. Breezy."

"Good-night, boy. Come in the first dog watch to-morrow evening, and you shall hear our conclusion."

"Good-night, sir."

Kep went away in the dinghy.

It was a lovely starry night, with, high above, the southern cross, and the moon's rays shimmering on the water.

Kep, who was a good diplomatist, took out his piccolo, and quavering over the waters came now the unearthly music of that proud old song which touches the spine of every true British sailor or soldier, namely,

"Good-night. All's well."

"By George!" said Guilford to McTavish, "he is a broth of a boy."

"Yes, and we must have him. He is bound to be the sauciest boy in the Service."

Kep was rated all right--interpreter. And he so pleased the gun-room officers that he was invited to become an honorary member of their mess.

And Kep was happy now, more especially as Adolph was chosen to supersede the Captain's steward, who had died in the Mozambique channel.

One day very soon after, brown-faced Gunner Stormalong sought audience of the Commander of the Newt.

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I want to speak a moment."

"Certainly."

"Well, sir, the Newt I hear is ordered home, but the Breezy will be out for some years longer, and I'd like to be in her to serve out my time, and Gunner Myers would take my place, if so be, sir, that you'd let us exchange."

"Readily, Jack, readily, and if he is only half as good a man as you, he will do for us."

"Thank you, sir, and God bless you, sir."

And Jack bowed and retired, and next day he was a gunner on the Breezy.

That's how things turn out in the Service.

CHAPTER X

THE BROADSWORD-MEN OF THE "BREEZY"--KEP CUTS OFF A LEG

Young Kep Drummond's work on board the Breezy was no sinecure from the very beginning. Not that any one forced him to do things, but he was good-hearted, and had all a well-bred boy's willingness to work and help as well.

From the very first he had taken to the doctor, probably from that law in nature which causes large bodies to attract smaller. This merely in a physical sense, but it is true from the mental side also. Dr. McTavish had a large and lofty mind. One of his chief studies was astronomy, or rather a study of the heavens and the illimitable star-depths. Like all students of science, he liked to be listened to by his juniors. Well, he had a good listener and an ardent admirer in Kep.

The Breezy was sent on a special mission back to the Cape of Good Hope, whence they would receive further instructions from the Admiral of that station, and whose house was at Symon's Bay, but his home really on the rolling deep on board the huge flagship Greater Britain. She was one of a class then being built--30,000 tons, 30 guns, 30 knots an hour. She had a specially constructed bottom, and feared no danger from bursting torpedoes, for the Admiral of the ship and the others of its family could, when in action, so protect the ship that they would explode harmlessly in the water before they could touch her bilge.

The biggest of our present-day ships would look like pigmies beside a monster of the deep like this. The Union was needed in these waters, because the Germans and French had possessions in Africa. And in fact these two countries, although not our open foes, were jealous of our power at sea, and the vast amount of territory occupied. In some of their would-fain-be comic papers the Germans cartooned Britain as the young cuckoo who, as it grows, hustles all its other little comrades to whom the nest in reality belongs, out of it to die. Britain with America really meant not only to occupy the whole of Africa, and civilize it, but the whole world was in time to become an English-speaking world; then all wars would cease. It was a big scheme, but then, like everything else, civilization is, as far as this earth is concerned, infinite. It is a seed that once sown grows and expands with marvellous rapidity, especially when aided by the fostering power of true Christianity.

Well, in their way across the six thousand miles of lonesome water which stretches from Australia to the Cape, although the Breezy encountered many a storm, there were many and many beautiful nights, when the sky was clear, and the stars so near apparently, that the main truck appeared to be moving amongst them.

It was on such nights as these that Kep loved, figuratively, to sit at the feet of the sailor surgeon, and hear him tell the story of the star-depths, those greater universes that exist so far from ours, that even trying to imagine the distance has before now sent even a scientist mad.

But Kep assisted the doctor in the dispensary also, and this was quite as necessary on board the Breezy as a study of the star-depths. And Kep was ever handy with water, sponges, bandages and thread whenever an operation was being performed.

There is no harm in a boy having a good opinion of his abilities, so long as he does know a few things well.

One day the doctor, who was really and truly swinging himself hand over hand towards a main-top battery, when he sprained his ankle. He was so strong and so healthy that he felt he could almost fly, and this was the result.

Next morning early Kep entered his cabin on tiptoe with a bowl of nice ship's cocoa, which the bold surgeon, who had been awake nearly all night with pain, gratefully drank.

"You are a good lad, Charlie."

"Yes, I know that. I suppose I can't help being so. I suppose freaks are mostly always good-hearted. But, sir," he added coolly, "you won't turn out to-day. You may keep your mind perfectly easy. I will see the sick."

The doctor laughed aloud at the conceit of the lad.

An hour afterwards, with an improvised crutch under his arm and his bathing drawers on, McTavish was forward on the upper deck, with a man playing the sea-hose on him and his poor swollen ankle. There were forward also the middies, and one or two of the ward-room officers, all enjoying the same healthy fun. When stripped this marvellous athlete, who three years ago, when only twenty years of age and still a student, had wrestled with and overthrown a champion, was greatly admired. And though on that day the ankle was considerably swollen he put up his 80 lb. dumb-bells just as usual.

He put Kep himself under training, and the boy began to grow from the first fortnight thereof, though he was not tall.

His father, however, had taught him swordmanship, and at this work he could beat every gun-room officer.

There was one man forward, namely Jack Stormalong, Kep's friend, the gunner, who was almost as tall and well-developed as the sailor-surgeon, who saw him stripped once, and felt his muscles.

"What arms and chest and legs for broadsword exercise à la Scottice," said the doctor.

"Be they, sir?"

"By St. Andrew, they are, Stormalong. You're good with the cutlass, I hear."

"Fair."

"Well, I think I've found a hero worthy of my steel, and with the permission of the first lieutenant, I shall put you under special training, and teach you the broadsword. I've got two of those old Highlanders, splendid bits of steel, so we shall see."

Well, Jack just set his mind to it, and soon mastered the art, and became nearly as proficient as his master. Whenever it was possible the doctor and Jack had broadsword play after the wash-deck bath, and before dressing. McTavish never towelled down, and wouldn't let Jack do so.

"It isn't Scotch style," he said, to the middies who were there in full bathing costume--drawers. "You can't have too much salt on your skin, boys."

Even older officers would crowd forward to see the play at early morning. They had, as usual, small bets on, and ridiculous ones, such as "a postage stamp that has only been used once," or "a hair of the dog that bit you," etc.

The man who was severely pressed lowered sword, and the bout was over. But often Highland targes--two at the surgeon's directions were made by the armourer--were used, and long, strong sword-sticks instead of the claymores. There was good fun with these, and they were not so dangerous. Besides, umpiring was more easy, because if one man was marked on the skin above an important group of muscles, or received the point, he was declared hors de combat.

But soon not only the gun-room officers, but the engineers became enamoured of the play, and in time as many as ten couples might be seen fighting like Red Indians on the deck at one time.

Finally, by the time they reached the Cape, a corps was formed of the best athletes, men with timber on hip and calf, and these were called the Broadsword men of the Breezy.

But there was an engineer from Cumberland, a splendid fellow, and another of the same build belonging to Glasgow, who were both desperate wrestlers, though this was unknown to any save themselves. Well, one day there was a kind of gala performance took place on the Breezy, to be followed by music and dancing in the evening, and the two engineers resolved to vary the performance. They told the doctor, and he sanctioned it. It would be a bit of extra fun anyhow.

It was, moreover, the captain's birthday, and the ship was beautifully dressed with gay bunting below and aloft. The party was very select, and many soldiers were there, and beautiful women, chiefly to see the Broadsword-men of the Breezy, and to listen to Kep's piping of his favourite Faust and Wagner.

The deck was so seated that everyone had a good view, while the crew clustered everywhere. There were fifteen couples entered the arena with targe and broadsword stick. And the performance was a never-to-be-forgotten one.

The athletes on this occasion wore the costume of stage wrestlers, but the light jerseys of one half were crimson, the other yellow. After an exhausting and beautifully exciting combat the yellows were declared winners, but bouquets of splendid wild flowers from the mountains were handed by the ladies each to the champion she favoured, whether victor or vanquished. The giant surgeon and Jack Stormalong fought with naked claymores, and after a time the former received a scratch on the left shoulder. Blood ran over his shirt, but Kep was at hand, and speedily put matters to rights, and the combat was renewed. After a display that brought down the house, swords were lowered, the combatants saluted and retired. The battle was a drawn one.

Then came Cumberland and Glasgow.

The onlookers received them with rapturous applause and admiration of their splendid formation and muscle. Theirs was claymore and targe, and after a short spell of this, with defiant shout each athlete dashed claymore and targe away, and crouched like panthers watching for the chance to spring.

It was catch where you can wrestling, but Donald Dinnie rules, that is, one man must not only throw his opponent, but keep him down for one minute. The struggle lasted for sixteen minutes, and Cumberland was victor.

Scotland stood with arms folded across the chest grimly surveying his friendly foe.

The doctor approached to where the Admiral and his two daughters were seated.

"They want to have one more tulzie," he said, saluting.

"Only one then, whoever wins," said the Admiral.

Ten minutes more, and Scotland stood erect. Cumberland was carried off the deck.

He had only been put to sleep, and soon recovered.

The Admiral recalled all the combatants now, and thanked and praised them. So long, he said, as Britain had men like this, both Scotch and English, to say nothing of the brave Irish, she need never fear a foreign foe, afloat or on shore.

And the cheering almost drowned the music of the band that had struck up "Rule, Britannia," the men singing to the melody.

"Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves."

It all ended in dinner and dancing, but every one was happy, the Admiral's girls especially.

They had never, they said, spent a breezier evening than among the Broadsword-men of the Breezy.

* * * * *

But this cruiser was too smart a ship to be allowed to remain at peace in any place for more than a week. And now receiving orders that some underhand work was taking place up Zanzibar way, the ship was coaled hurriedly.

This coaling in double-quick time was not a real necessity be it known. It is, was, ever, and will be, a species of extra drill in the service.

There was a large number of Kroomen on board, and to them fell the largest share of the dirty work.

These sturdy blacks came from the neighbourhood of Sierra Leone. They were not borne in the ship's books, being working hands pure and simple. They were under the command of their own head Krooman. This man was a forest chief in his own wild back country. He ruled his men not with a rod of iron, but the end of a stout manilla rope, and woe betide the backs of any who tried to shirk his duty.

But if one gave his chief an insolent word, or even look, he was tied up and had forty lashes there and then. That was called by the Kroomen "fum-fum."

On this particular day Surgeon McTavish had gone on shore to shoot anything he might come across among the heath-and-geranium-clad mountains that cluster like the hills of an earthly paradise all around the gulph or bay.

He was an ardent student of Natural History, and his gun helped him in his studies.

But he blamed himself to-day for taking leave on a coaling day, for some poor fellow might have an accident. And this made him hurry back, with his bag mostly filled with rock-rabbits and big snakes fully two hours before sundown.

About half an hour before this a bag of coals had fallen from the dock down upon a poor Krooman, smashing his leg in a very dreadful fashion. The man was carried at once to the sick-bay bleeding terribly below the knee, and a boat despatched forthwith to seek for surgical aid from the nearest ship. There was no doctor on board that, nor on another one. The day was exceptionally fine, even for the Cape in summer, and nearly all surgeons had gone on shore.

"We'd better go straight to the Naval Hospital now," said the middy in charge of the boat.

Meanwhile the man was bleeding to death in the sick bay, when Kep, with all the coolness of a man of fifty from St. Thomas's, came upon the scene. The lower part of the leg was "smashed to smithereens," as the sick-bay attendant said.

"Have to come off, I think, sir?"

"Mind your own business," cried Kep haughtily. "Why on earth did you not apply a tourniquet to the femoral artery?"

"Was taken aback, sir, and couldn't manage the thing."

"How long have you been in the Service, sir?" asked Kep indignantly, as his busy fingers were fastening the instrument and stopping the bleeding.

"Five years, sir."

"A jolly sight too long. I'll have you disrated. Bring the anesthetics at once. Here, you're too slow. I'll manage that. Get out the instruments. Lively does it. Bear a hand, while I send the man off."

"Yes, certainly, the largest amputating knife; this poor man has a thigh like an ox."

The attendant bustled now; at the same time he was utterly surprised at the audacity of this boy of barely fifteen.

The man was asleep, and would be kept so.

Kep had taken off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and looked at the instruments. He knew that every one of them was chemically clean, and saw that everything was handy on the table.

"What, sir! Excuse me, sir, but you are surely not going to operate?"

"Undoubtedly I am. Don't you know that on board of the old Victory in Nelson's day a loblolly boy cut the limbs from no less than five sailors while the battle was raging? Now then," he added, "stand by to hand me what I want."

He made the flaps Secundem Artem and sawed the bone.

"The doctor's boat!" was the shout from aft one minute after, and when the hospital surgeon entered the poor man's leg was already raw side down in a pail of water, and Kep coolly picking up and tying the arteries with the shaky assistance of the attendant.

"The devil!" cried the doctor.

"No, sir," cried the attendant, "only the boy Bowser, the sauciest boy in the Service."

"Well," said the hospital doctor, as he began to complete the operation, laughing as he spoke, "the devil himself couldn't have done the job half as well."

"How old are you?" he said to Kep after the poor Krooman had been put in his cot.

"Fifteen in five days," he answered proudly. "Quite old, isn't it, sir?"

"Did the surgeon leave you in charge of the ship?"

"Oh no, sir. Dr. McTavish is away in the mountains shooting cobras and things, but really, he is such a nice, affable fellow, that I shall always be only too pleased to do any little job like this in his absence."

The doctor was more amused than ever, and had a rattling good story to tell that evening to his mess-mates.

CHAPTER XI

ON THE "SCOUT"

Because Dr. McTavish was a scientist and a thinker was no reason why he should be otherwise than hearty and jolly.

Indeed, he was admitted to be the life and soul of the mess. He had travelled a good deal before joining the Service, but had never quite lost his accent. He rather preferred to retain it. But this was only when chaffed about his tongue, and when little Mr. Sneyd, for example, rubbed it in too hard.

But the anecdotes, often against his own country, which the surgeon used to retail of an evening, couched in this broad accent, were often highly laughable. As a raconteur there was little chance of his being beaten in the Breezy for some time to come.

The Captain himself never spliced the main-brace; it was his duty or pleasure to ask the surgeon if the men needed that extra glass of grog. But Mac loved the old tales of the sea that he had read when a boy, and sometimes, especially on a Saturday night, he would inform Captain Breezy or the first lieutenant that the men looked rather pallid from the heat of the day, and that splicing the main-brace would do good.

The Captain laughed at the idea of his men looking pale, for they were as weather-beaten as New Forest oaks, and as red in face as a full moon setting in a fog.

But on certain Saturday nights, if the weather was all that could be expected, Captain Breezy himself came as an invited guest into the ward-room, and often thus assembled the officers would have what was called a night with Burns. At dinner the band--a string one, and led on such occasions by Kep himself--played little else save Scottish music.

Kep would play a solo on piano or piccolo, and then recite, as he well could do, selections from Burns, notably "The Cottar's Saturday Night," or "Tam o' Shanter."

The anecdotes must all be Scotch, some serious and terrible enough, but some highly ludicrous.

More than once did McTavish play solos on his great Highland bagpipes, or dance the sword-dance, if the ship were steady enough.

Pibrochs such as this sailor-surgeon could play were not simply the jig sort of pieces you find in books, and labelled "Pibrochs." No, they were real Highland battle-pieces. And nowhere else would he play these except high on the bridge, where he could walk slowly to and fro, and a fine figure he looked arrayed in the full Highland dress. In these Highland pibroch pieces you seemed to hear everything connected with the gathering of the clans and the raid, from end to end.

There were the wild cries of the men who ran through the glens holding the fiery cross in their hands, the hurrying hither and thither of the clansmen, then the farewells to their wives or the girls they left behind them, for as the music welled forth they were marching away

Maybe to return to Lochaber no more.

But soon, wild and terrible, you seemed to hear the slogan cries of the Highlanders, as a quick-step was changed into a charge, then the shouts of battle, the cry of the victor, the groaning of the wounded; then a brief pause, succeeded by the most mournful music it is possible to listen to, the coronach or lament for those who had fallen in battle in their country's cause.

There was no Englishman in the ship who did not sympathize with music like this, and Scottish sailors forward did not seek to hide their excitement, or even their tears.

The band would play up again after this, and both officers and men, the latter forward, the former aft, would mingle in the mazy dance.

Kep, as interpreter, was dressed in very neat uniform, that of a midshipman, but without distinctive marks. He frequently went forward of an evening with his marvellous piccolo to play hornpipes to the men, and give them a change of swinging their legs about, and really to witness the motions of some of the Breezy best dancers one could not have helped wondering why they did not shake their legs off, as the jellyfishes sometimes do.

So we must admit that the Breezy was a merry as well as a happy ship.

There were times, however, when there was very little merriness in their heads.

Terrible storms sometimes raged, especially in the regions round Madagascar, where surveying had to be carried on day after day, if possible, for weeks at a time.

Into gulfs or bays the surveying boats had sometimes to fly, and probably barely save their lives, so suddenly did squalls, that ended in fierce hurricanes, come on.

The squalls would come first, and, raging and tearing hither and thither for a time, churning the sea into a chaos of froth or spume, suddenly retire, when there would be an ominous lull for a time. They had been but acting as vanguard to the advance of the great army of cloud and storm that followed, startling the fish of the sea and beasts of the mountains with its thunders, lighting the darkness of day with the red-blue blinding glare of the electric hurricane--the thick and fearful darkness of the day.

But the boats that were away surveying usually had a pleasant time. Kep was always on board one of these, for his gift of tongues often came in handy with the natives, many of whom were French or Portuguese.

Once no less than three men were washed overboard from a boat, which was almost capsized. No, their bodies were never recovered, and there would be sad hearts somewhere in England when the news reached home.

From the ship itself in many places soundings were taken, and the executive officers and navigating lieutenant had plenty to do in the making of fresh charts.

For a country like ours to know every part of the sea's bottom is highly important, because in a naval battle, say somewhere round the coast of the Mauritius, or in coral seas of the far Pacific ocean, the side that had the best charts of reefs and deep water would almost surely manoeuvre the enemy into a tight corner, from which there would be no exit.

The Breezy carried a new invention in the shape of a diving bell with strong plate-glass windows, with a telephone by means of which the officer on board could converse with the workmen below. In this wonderful bell men could examine the bottom either by night or by day, and wonderful were the sights they saw at times, and awful nightmare faces used often to glare in at them.

All sunken wrecks were sometimes examined with the aid of the bell, and more than once gold was found. This was treasure trove; nevertheless, though it belonged to the king, much of it would be paid back in prize-money to the officers and crew.

* * * * *

For two long months did the Breezy haunt the eastern shores of Africa. There were men in the Admiralty then, and they would have things done well, no matter what the cost might be.

It is needless to say that the ship received mails periodically from home, and a tiny dispatch boat--a kind of steam-and-sail dhow--used to be sent to seek for the Breezy, and deliver the letters, papers, and sealed orders to the crew.

Needless to say, it was a red-letter day when a mail-bag came, and though both officers and men sometimes received news that did not please them, or even caused them grief, no one, unless asked, was unmanly enough to speak of his own troubles. It was the custom rather to seek to know the sorrows of others, and try to console them.

Kep's letters from his sister were always long and delightful. But one day he was startled to be told that his father was in difficulties, and in terrible grief in consequence.

"And oh, dear Kep," the letter went on, "though I am eighteen, I feel but a child. I care for nobody now save father, but two years younger I thought I did care for some one. I have never told you this; I would not even now, but father considered him unworthy to marry the daughter of a wealthy Drummond, and forbade him the house. He never came again; but if a girl of sixteen, my age at the time--you were in Scotland, dear--can love, he took my heart with him. My grief was more poignant and lasting than when our dear mother passed away.

"But, Kep, to save us from the ruin that like a thunder-cloud must burst over Martello Castle, father wants me to, almost commands me to, marry a wealthy Jew, whom I can never, never love. He is not only wealthy, but handsome and distinguished, and my union with him would save the situation, and perhaps poor father's life. I cannot, oh, I cannot, yet do not be surprised to find that I am driven to it, etc., etc."

The steam dhow was to wait for letters, and Kep had to write against time. But the gist of his letter was--"Marry no one you cannot both respect and love. Death is to be preferred. Trust in God, Sissie dear. I am very young, but I do think God will forsake no one who puts his trust in Him. If father is so ill-advised as to try to force you into a marriage with this man, leave Martello, and reside with some friend or friendly relative until my ship comes home."

Kep was naturally a happy-minded, hopeful boy, and though he prayed longer that night in his hammock than usual, and even in his fervour shed a few tears, he fell soundly asleep, and next morning was his own old self again, feeling satisfied that no storm would ever burst on the Martello estate.

* * * * *

For many years there had been a lull in the slave-trade. Few dhows were now captured, and it was believed the Arabs had almost given up the terrible game.

But lately, strange to say, it had broken out with greater vigour than ever.

There was some secret power behind the daring raids of these Arab gentlemen. This was supposed to be Portugal, for she--though ever fair-tongued and cringing to the British--had always been in favour of slavery, and would have given a good deal to see even Germany predominant along the shores, and on the sea as well.

But there had very recently been a new Sultan raised to the throne of Zanzibar, and so frequently was he found to be in league with the German Consulate there, that acting on orders from home the Captain of the Breezy paid the Palace a visit.

His arrival was by appointment made by the Sultan, and the visit paid was, to all appearance, unofficial.

But after the usual courtesies, and meat and betelnut, Captain Breezy, with his first lieutenant, and Kep as interpreter, opened the real "talkee-talkee."

There was much shilly-shallying, and much untruth and fighting shy of the subject on the part of the youthful potentate, so that the honest sailor was disgusted, and through Kep told the Sultan that as the British had placed him on the throne, so the British would pull him down if he attempted to kick over the traces.

"Down goes the Palace about your Sultanic ears, and up goes another Sultan, if you do not within twenty-four hours sign a treaty with us, and henceforth leave Germans and Portuguese severely alone."

That treaty was signed, for the Sultan was little more than a boy, but the intriguing was continued from another direction.

For the city of Lamoo on the equator, and many miles up the river, had of late years become greatly improved and powerful.

It had been but a protectorate of Zanzibar and its Sultan. Now it suddenly began to be independent, and shortly after the events I am now going to relate showed signs of unusual activity.

Rich diamond mines had been found, it was said, in the far interior, and why should not Lamoo go in for its navy as well as Zanzibar.

I fear that most of Zanzibar's ships were put there by means of British coin, and not diamond mines, so if Lamoo's men-o'-war were lent her or given to her by Portugal or Germany, it would be simply a matter of diamond cut diamond when the crisis came.

Meanwhile Britain was, to all appearance, hoodwinked. On the coast of Africa her only policy appeared to be to sweep slaving Arab dhows from off the Indian Ocean.

In this she was assisted by other ships of the station, all of which by means of wireless telegraphy were within hail of each other.

Officers going on shore from a ship are usually met by a nigger, who may be of any age from fourteen to forty, only he is always called a boy, and acts for the time being as a city guide or guide through the beautifully-wooded island.

The gentlemen Arabs had their own plan of espionage. In intellect they considered themselves far above a Briton, and in this same art of espionage they undoubtedly were, as well as in every devilish device that might be applied to it.

Never an officer who landed on the white sands but was shadowed, and never even an ordinary seaman. Of a party of these latter they took but little heed, well knowing that as a general rule they betook themselves to some hotel, where they might drink a glass or two, have a song and smoke and yarn and be down in time to the beach to meet the liberty boat. A single officer, or even two, were warily followed whereever they went.

Kep's boy was a clever little rascal, not a day older than himself. A Somali he was, but knew a little English, and plenty of Arabic. As they generally set off to the woods to gather butterflies or lizard-hunting, the Arabs took very little heed of them.

But all the while Kep was picking up the Swahili or Somali language. Out in the forest the two together performed all kinds of monkey tricks, and Kep could soon climb cocoa-nut trees and pitch down the fruit as cleverly even as quick young Bungle. He had some other name, but Bungle suited him well enough, and the lad was rather proud of it than otherwise.

Kep on these little rambles managed to mix a good deal with both low-class and high-class Arabs, but he always kept his ears pricked and his weather-eye lifting.

When in an Arab's house, presumably to drink the splendid coffee which only an Arab can make, Kep pretended not to know a single word of either Somali or Arabic, and thus he gained a considerable deal of information, which was of great use to Captain Breezy.

The Arabs watched the Breezy put to sea to the nor'ard. They had counted every man and officer who went on board, then they sighed sighs of relief, and thanked Allah that the villainous Britons had gone.

But one thing none of them had noticed, for when night had fallen, and the Breezy was opposite a wooded point of the island, she was stopped.

A light was flashed over her side just once, and presently out from the dark forest shadows stole a tiny black out-rigger boat, and was rowed silently across the star-lit sea, till she reached the ship's side.

"Good-bye, dear lad; good-bye, and Heaven bless and keep you."

It was Kep whom the officers were saying farewell to and seeing over the side.

He was an adept at disguise, and now it seemed no longer Kep that was standing among the officers, but a very handsome Arab boy. He had even stained his feet, legs, arms and face an olive tint. He wore sandals on his feet, a little turban on his head, and carried a spear.

It was McTavish himself that spoke the last farewell.

"Take care of yourself, boy," he said. "May God bring you safe back to us. Good-bye."

And waving a salute, Kep passed silently over the side, and the ship went on.

CHAPTER XII

A STARTLING ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS--THE CHIEF'S PLOT

Without Kep on board, the Breezy didn't seem the same that night either to officers or men. He was missed in the gun-room mess, and missed in the ward-room, while the crew sadly missed the merry notes of his little black flute. But Kep was by this time alone in the woods with his faithful little black guide Bungle.

Brave though Kep undoubtedly was, he felt a little nervous to-night in those dreary woods. There are strange weird sounds in them by night.

Bungle could find his way here on the darkest night, but the dread that they might be watched was in both hearts, and several times they stopped and crept farther into the gloom as the sound of approaching footsteps fell upon their ears. Kep had two tiny revolvers of the best make, and meant to use them if attacked. His life was of some little value to him, and he would sell it dearly.

They saw figures glide past them, but these passed on, and they resumed their journey.

It was five long miles to the suburbs of this half-barbarian city. But once they began to come among the glimmering lights, Bungle and Kep separated. They knew when and where to meet again.

Kep held on now, boldly exchanging a "Yambo" or "Yambo Sana" with a stranger, until he entered a side lane and darted quickly into a house. The house of an Arab friend it was. He lived there all alone with his child, a soft-eyed little Arab maid of some ten years, whose life Kep had saved in the street by shooting dead in his tracks a hulking black naked and low-caste Arab, who had seized the child with the intention of abducting her.

She had been able to tell Kep, frightened though she was, where she lived, and the strong, hardy British boy had mounted her on his shoulder and carried her to her grateful father's house.

The fellow he had shot was buried out of the way, and no questions asked.

Such a favour as this no Arab could forget, so Kep knew he was safe enough there. But at first the Arab did not know the boy in his disguise.

The child knew him first, and ran to embrace him.

"You are very beautiful now," she said in her pretty Arabic, "and little Zeena loves you."

A steamer from India was due at Zanzibar next day, and all unsuspected, though gazed at by a thousand eyes, Kep betook himself to the beach and soon was engaged as guide to a lady who seemed fascinated with him.

He talked to her in broken English, called her "Meesie" (little Miss), and took her all through the town all day long and into the woods.

On parting with him, Kep certainly was not the loser, for he found half-a-crown in his hand, and a kiss on his cheek.

"Mamma," the girl told her mother frankly when she returned, "I've had the sweetest Arab boy for a guide ever any one saw, and he seemed so pleased when I kissed him."

The ship lay coaling, etc., for four days, and every day Kep was on the beach to guide the young lady.

Though Arabs did not know him, they put him down as simply a boy of a different tribe, trying to make some money.

But in this way Kep was able to confer with Bungle any day he liked, and every night he lay perdu in his friend's house.

He was soon able to mingle freely in the best and worst Arab society, and one night, to his great joy but quite by accident, he made a marvellous discovery, which, as it turned out, was of the greatest importance.

His residence with this faithful Arab Kep enjoyed most thoroughly. In fact, he was very much at home, and did not for the present, at all events, long for the return of the Breezy. She was gone on a cruise up Aden way, and it would be six weeks before she could again cast anchor in Zanzibar waters.

Kep had a capital opportunity now of improving his Arabic and Swahili, and he was not slow in taking advantage of it.

The Arab himself taught him a great deal, especially as to writing, and the construction of words and phrases. But Zeena taught him much more, and her language was probably more useful, as it was of a conversational kind. Zeena was very clever, as well as very innocent and charming. But Arab children in these tropical countries are like tropical flowers, they come early to maturity, and Zeena, though but ten, had all the wisdom of, and perhaps a good deal more, than an English girl of sixteen. Yet she was as sweet and innocent in all her ways as a baby.

There are white Arabs, swarthy olive Arabs, and black. Zeena and her father were white and of high caste.

I don't think I should be going a bit too far if I told you that Kep came to love the child almost as much he loved Madge his sister.

Zeena's rapt attention to all he told her about his own far-away land was very flattering to the boy. She seemed to hang on every word he said. When the great lamp was lit, she sat cross-legged on a pretty ottoman beside him, and when tired of listening, she leaned back and fell sound asleep, looking then in her crimson evening robes of silk, so Kep told himself, as beautiful as an houri of the Arab's paradise. This room, with its strange furniture and rich hangings was paradise enough to Kep. Meanwhile, the father sat quietly by, reading, ever reading.

It was one night when belated in the forest or jungle that Kep had a strange adventure. He came upon a group of Arabs, all armed to the teeth and talking round a fire.

The boy crept nearer and nearer, till he could hear every word spoken. Yet well he knew that discovery meant imprisonment or even death itself.

They were gentlemen Arabs, soldiers and slave-raiders all in one, and some, Kep could tell from their uniforms, were servants of the Sultan of Lamoo himself.

Their meeting here in the open forest probably showed a want of caution. But they believed they had no need to fear anything. There was not a warship anywhere on the coast, and all in this island were friends. So they drank their coffee and squatted round the fire, conversing freely. Just beyond the spot where under a bush Kep lay hidden, a sentinel had been placed, and into whose arms the boy at first had almost precipitated himself. The duty of this man was to keep walking round in a circle, stopping occasionally to give vent to a long, low, bird-like whistle, as a signal that all was well.