were a soft-headed sort of
fellow. That's better. Now you've cooled down."

"Yes," said Mark, with a smile, "and I shall soon be better now."

"That's your style. All my doing. I say, Van, old chap, I'll take to
doctoring you now; so kick old Whitney over, and leave it to me.
Russell says he shall come and see you soon--"

"I wish he would," cried Mark.

"If you don't soon come and see him."

"I only wish I could," said Mark, and he made an effort to rise, but
sank back with a piteous look of misery in his face, which made Bob
seize his hand.

"Here, I say," he cried cheerily. "Oh! Don't look like that. You're
only a bit weak, messmate. Avast there! take a good grip o' the health
tack; haul in your slack, and ahoy! you'll be full sail again in a week.
I say, what do you think of that? I'm getting on with my nautical
lingo, ain't I?"

Mark smiled feebly--just a wan, sickly smile, like a bit of sunshine on
a wintry day.

"Avast there! none of your grinning," cried Bob. "Better than you could
do it, old chap. That's your sort. Cheer up. I must be off now. I'll
come back and talk to you as soon as I can, and if you behave yourself
I'll sing you a song."

There was a genuine smile on Mark Vandean's face now, as he heard these
words delivered with utmost seriousness.

"No, no, don't, Bob," he said, feebly. "I am getting better, really,
now. Don't do that. It would be more than I could stand."

Bob Howlett uttered a peculiar sound, half-angry cry, half growl, caught
up his cap, and marched out, as if in high dudgeon, while Mark lay back,
staring at the open port-hole, through which came the warm glowing light
of the tropic sunshine.

"Poor old Bob!" he muttered; "he thinks he can sing, and of all the
dreadful noises ever made.--Ha, ha, ha!"

He laughed merrily at the recollection of some of his messmate's vocal
efforts, and his face was lit up as if with inward sunshine, till he
heard a voice and looked round in wonder, to see that Captain Maitland,
Mr Staples, and the doctor were at the doorway watching him.

"Humph!" cried the captain; "not much cause for anxiety here."

"No," said the first lieutenant: "he's what the men call miching. Here,
Vandean, when are you coming on deck? Can't have you lying here with
half a dozen people to wait upon you."

"I don't want to, sir," said Mark, in a piping voice. "Mr Whitney
knows."

"Yes, I know," said the doctor. "There," he continued, turni