kick yer out of the door."

"Yah!" grinned Pan. "Can't kick. I see yer brought in, and yer
couldn't stand."

"Keep that water out o' my eye, warmint, will you," whispered the
boatswain. "Water's too good to be wasted. Give us a drink, boy."

Pan rose and dipped a pannikin full of the cool water from a bucket, and
held it to his father's lips.

"Wouldn't have had no water if it hadn't been for me coming ashore," he
said.

"Ah, you've a lot to boast about. Just you pour that in properly, will
yer; I want it inside, not out."

"Who's to pour it right when yer keeps on talking?" said Pan, as he
trickled the water into his father's mouth.

"Ah, you're a nice sarcy one now I'm down, Pan-y-mar," said Stoke, after
a long refreshing draught. "But you may be trustful, I've got a good
memory for rope's-ends, and you shall have it warmly as soon as I'm
well."

"Then I won't stop and nuss yer," said Pan, drawing back.

"You just come on, will yer, yer ungrateful swab."

"Shan't," said Pan.

"What! Do you know this here arn't the skipper's garden, and you and me
only gardeners, but 'board ship--leastwise it's all the same--and I'm
your orficer?"

"You arn't a orficer now," said Pan, grinning. "You're only a wounded
man."

"Come here."

"Shan't!"

"Pan-y-mar, come here."

"Say you won't rope's-end me, and I will."

"But I will rope's-end you."

"Then I won't come."

The boatswain made an effort to rise, but sank back with a groan. Pan
took a couple of steps forward, and looked at him eagerly.

"Why, you're shamming, father," he said.

The boatswain lay back with the great drops of sweat standing on his
face.

"I say, you won't rope's-end me, father?"

There was no reply.

"Why, you are shamming, father."

Still all was silent, and the boy darted to the injured man's side and
began to bathe his face rapidly.

"Father," he whispered, hoarsely, "father. Oh, I say! Don't die, and
you shall give it me as much as you like. Father--Oh, it's you, Master
Syd. Be quick! He's so bad. What shall I do?"

"Be quiet," said Syd, quietly. "Don't be frightened; he has fainted."

"Then why did he go scaring a lad like that?" whimpered Pan, looking on.

"Hush! Be quiet. There: he is coming round," said Syd, as the injured
man uttered a loud sigh and looked wonderingly about him.

"Just let me get hold--Oh, it's you, sir. Glad you've comed. I'm ready
now.--Stand aside, Pan-y-mar, and give the