The Little Skipper | Page 4

roared the big sailor, as if he were speaking in a storm; and he swung round again, with his packages flying out, like the governor balls of the ship's engine.
[Illustration: "'Jack Robinson' saluted the little Skipper and Dot."]
"Did you bring that breech-loading cannon?"
"Ay, ay, sir!" said the sailor, holding up the hand which held the parcels.
"And the brass anchor?"
"Ay, ay, sir!" and the hand was lifted again.
"And I told you to buy a coil of well-laid cable."
"Ay, ay, sir!--best fishing-line. In my 'at, sir."
"Right then; you can take them back: they will not be wanted."
"Ay, ay, sir!" cried the man, but not so loudly and sharply; and he gazed now at the Skipper, who looked back at him in his misery; and strive how he would, he could not keep back one little tear, which squeezed itself out of his left eye and tickled his cheek very much, as it slowly ran down.
Poor little Dot was not so strong, but still she was brave, for she made no sound, while she hid her face and cried bitterly.
Meanwhile, the big sailor had faced about and was walking back, picking up his feet from the sand as if it were hot and burned him, while the Captain turned his back on his son and began to move off toward the fir-wood.
This gave the Skipper his opportunity too; he swung round to hide the tears that had beaten him, and would come trickling down.
For the boy in his misery and despair felt that he could not--thanks to his training--run to his father and beg for forgiveness, so that he might have the presents the Captain had brought for him. It would be so mean, he thought. But that cannon, and the anchor, and the ship's cable. It seemed more than he could bear.
The sand was very soft, and the Skipper would not have known that his father had come back, if Dot had not uttered a tiny sob, when the boy started round, to face his father's eyes.
"Not sulky, are you, Bob?"
The boy shook his head. He dared not try to speak.
"It was not right of my boy, was it?"
"No, father," whispered the boy.
"Shake hands, then."
The Skipper caught the firm brown hand in both of his, and clung to it tightly, and Dot began kissing her father with all her might. As soon as he could extricate himself, the Captain smiled and wiped his wet face, for Dot had been leaving little dewy tears all over it. Then he hailed the big sailor, who was out of sight among the trees.
"Ay, ay, sir!" came in a cheery roar, and the next minute he came into sight, trotting along at double quick march, and making the dry sand fly like smoke.
"Those ship's stores will be wanted to-day," said the Captain sharply; and he strode off into the fir-wood, with Dot in his arms, leaving his son to follow.
The Skipper turned his back again, so that the sailor should not see the trouble in his face, but he looked round in wonder, for there was a strange scuffling noise, the low whistling of the old tune "Jack Robinson," and there was the big sailor, with his arms swung across his breast, and the parcels dangling on the wrong side, going through the steps of the sailor's hornpipe, as if he were made of indiarubber; and kicking up the dust more than ever.
[Illustration: "There was the big sailor going through the steps of the sailor's hornpipe."]
"Hooroar! Master Bob," he whispered huskily. "It's all right agen. Come on and let's get the ship, and I'll help you to hyste the tackle aboard as soon as we get up to the house."
CHAPTER III.
The Skipper felt very uncomfortable when he reached home carrying his boat, for almost the first person he saw, was his mother, who met him in the hall, to catch him in her arms, without taking any notice of the big sailor, who saluted her, by pulling at a tuft of shaggy hair on his forehead, bending forward and kicking out one leg behind, before patting down his load.
"You can go in the kitchen, Jeffs," said the Captain, appearing at the drawing-room door, "and have your meal there."
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"There will be a portmanteau to take back with you, but, you can stay till the evening if you like. The boat will be at the stairs at seven."
"Ay, ay, sir!" said the sailor, saluting, and backing out, trying hard to catch the Skipper's eye; but the boy was watching his mother, for he saw that she had been crying.
"Father's been telling her," he said to himself; and he took the first opportunity of slipping away. But he had to come back when the big bell rang for early dinner, feeling very guilty, and longing to tell