nt of succumbing.

The threat of the rope's-end had finished Pan's bout. Something else
was going to act as a specific for Syd's.

He had been seated there a few minutes when there was a light step, and
a little figure appeared surmounted by the comically withered
countenance of Jenkins.

"Hallo, Belton!" he cried. "Up again. Better?"

"No; I feel very ill."

"Never mind. You do look mouldy, though. Can I get you anything?"

"No; I couldn't touch a bit."

"Couldn't you? Keep your head to the wind, lad, and get well. Old Mike
Terry's getting horrid saucy again, so look sharp and bung him up."

The little fellow popped up on deck, and took the news, with the effect
that Bolton came and said a word of congratulation, and he was followed
by Roylance.

"Oh, I am glad, old fellow," cried the latter. "You've had a nasty
bout. But, I say, your eyes are all right again, and the swelling's
gone from your lip."

"Has it?" said Syd, feebly, as if nothing mattered now.

"Yes; you'll very soon come round. We've run down with a rush before
that nor'-easter, and we're getting into lovely summer weather. Coming
on deck?"

"Too weak."

"Not you. Do you good. But I must go back on deck. Regular drill on."

He hurried away, and Syd was leaning back utterly prostrated, when there
was another step, and he opened his eyes to see that the figure which
darkened the door was that of Terry, who came into the low dark place,
and stood looking down at his late antagonist with a sneering
contemptuous smile which was increased to a laugh.

"What a poor miserable beggar!" he said, as if talking to himself.
"Talk about the sailor's sick parrot. Ha, ha, ha!"

A faint tinge of colour began to dawn in Syd's face. "Well," said
Terry; "what are you staring at?"

Syd made no reply, only kept his eyes fixed on his enemy, and panted
slightly.

"Hadn't you better go and ask your father to put you ashore somewhere,
miss?" sneered Terry. "You ought to be sent home in a Bath chair."

Syd made no reply, and Terry, who under his assumed nonchalant sneering
aspect was simmering with rage at the sight of his conqueror, went on
glorying in the chance to trample on a fallen enemy, and trying to work
him up to do something which would give him an excuse for delivering a
blow.

"_I_ can't think what officers are about to bring such miserable sickly
objects on board the King's ships to upset and annoy everybody with
their miserab