"Oh, I say, Tanner," I said, "don't quarrel with him about me. What he said did no harm. Mr Reardon was as friendly as could be."

"That's a cracker," cried Smith sharply.

At that moment a marine came to the door.

"First lieutenant wants to see Mr Herrick directly."

"Yes; where is he?" I said, smiling--purposely, of course.

"With the cap'n, sir, on the quarter-deck."

"All right; I'll be there directly."

The man saluted and marched off, while I followed to the door, where I turned, thrust in my head, and said banteringly--

"Now be good boys and don't fight while I'm gone."

_Bang_!

A book off the table, flung by Smith, struck the door which I was holding half open, for I saw the missile coming, and dodged it. Then I popped my head in again.

"Don't take any notice of him, Tanner," I cried; "he's bilious. Thankye for sticking up for me. Can I say a word for you to the captain?"

"Here, get up," cried Smith, with a snarl. "Touch your hat to him.

He's promoted; and they'll send poor old Brooke a step lower. All hail, Lieutenant Skeeter!"

"All right!" I cried, and I hurried away, leaving Barkins looking as if he could not believe his ears.

The next minute I was facing the captain and Mr Reardon.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

A FRESH START.

"Mr Herrick," said the captain, as I saluted, "I have decided that, as you know so much about this business, you shall go with Mr Brooke in one of the boats; but I wish you to observe what I say: the success of our expedition depends a great deal upon secrecy, so do not chatter anything about your mission in the hearing of the men."

"No, sir, certainly not," I said, wondering what the mission might be, and whether we were going to cut out the junks.

"That's right; you had better take the interpreter with you."

"To search for the junks, sir?"

"Hush; guard your tongue, sir. You are ostensibly going up the river with Mr Brooke upon a little shooting expedition for wild-fowl, so get rid of your uniform. I daresay we can lend him a gun, Mr Reardon?"

"If he'll take care of it, he can have mine, sir," said Mr Reardon.

"Then off with you, my lad, and be as observant as you can. Mr Brooke will tell you, I daresay, all about his instructions."

I saluted, and darted away in time to see that Smith had been watching me, for he drew back as I approached, and I found him standing by where Barkins sat, looking exceedingly glum.

I daresay it was very petty, but Smith had been so malicious, and had so often made himself disagreeable, that I could not help feeling a delicious sensation of triumph as I bustled into the cabin and rushed to my locker, without taking any notice whatever of Smith, while I felt sorry for big burly Barkins, who I felt would not say an unkind word if it were not for Smith's influence.

I remember Charles d.i.c.kens saying in one of his tales something about it being hard enough to live with any one who had a bad temper in a large house, but to be shut up with the said person in a cart or travelling van was terrible. Of course I am not giving his exact words, only making the allusion to ill.u.s.trate the fact that it is quite as bad to exist with an ill-tempered person in the small cabin of a vessel at sea.

For you may depend upon it there is no better--or worse--way of finding out a companion's peculiarities than that.

I acted pettily, but then I was only a boy; and now I am a man, getting on in years, I don't know that I am much better. But it was very comic all the same to see those two fellows try to ignore my proceedings, poor old Barkins following Blacksmith's lead once more. They did not want to know what I was going to do--not a bit. And I laughed to myself as I hurriedly kicked off my shoes and put on a pair of strong boots, carefully took off my uniform jacket and replaced it by a thin tweed Norfolk, after which I extricated a pith helmet from its box, having to turn it upside down, for it was full of odds and ends.

Smith had taken up a book and pretended to read, while Barkins sat back on a locker with his hands in his pockets, and his lips thrust out and screwed as if he were whistling, but no sound came, and he stared hard at the bulkhead facing him.

But try how he would he could not keep his eyes fixed there--they would follow my movements; and twice over I caught Smith peeping round the side of the book with which he was screening his face.

I began to whistle as I rapidly made my preparations, and at last Smith could bear it no longer.

"What's the idiot dressing himself up for?" he cried contemptuously.

That started Barkins, and he burst out with--

"What's up, Gnat? Sh.o.r.e leave?"

"Eh! Didn't you know?" I said coolly. "Shooting."

"What!" they exclaimed in a breath, and Smith's eyes were more wide open than I had ever seen them.

"Shooting," I said coolly. "Brooke and I are going after ducks."

"Gammon!" cried Barkins. "Why, you have no gun."

"No," I said. "Reardon is going to lend me his double breech-loader, central fire, number twelve."

Barkins gave his leg a sharp slap.

"We're going up the river; plenty of sport up there among the marshes."

"Going to walk?" said Barkins.

"Oh no; we're to have a crew and one of the cutters."

"Don't you believe him, Barkins, it's all gammon. The little humbug can't deceive me."

"All right, call it gammon," I said, stooping to tighten my boot-laces.

"Roast duck for dinner, Tanner, to-morrow."

Barkins rushed on deck, leaving me with Smith, and the next minute he was back again.

"It's all right, Smithy," he cried; "and they're shoving in a basket of prog for the beggars."