you, remember."
Toby thanked him humbly, swearing obedience and good behaviour. The couch in Saltash's cabin was immediately under a porthole, and the fresh sea-air blew straight in. He stretched his meagre person upon it with a sigh of contentment, and Saltash smiled down upon him. "That's right. You'll do there. Let's see! What did you say your name was?"
"Toby, sir."
"Toby Barnes or Toby Wright?" said Saltash.
The boy started, turned very red, then very white, opened his mouth to speak, shut it tightly, and said nothing.
Saltash took out his cigarette-case and opened it with great leisureliness. The smile still played about his ugly features as he chose a cigarette. Finally he snapped the lid and looked down again at his protégé.
"Or Toby nothing?" he said.
Toby's eyes came up to his, though the effort to raise them drew his face painfully.
"Whatever you like, my lord," he said faintly. "I'll answer to anything."
Saltash's own face was curiously softened. He looked down at Toby for some seconds in silence, idly tapping the cigarette he held against the case. Then: "How old are you?" he asked suddenly.
"Sixteen, sir." Toby's eyes with their dumb pleading were still anxiously raised to his.
Saltash bent abruptly and put his hand very lightly over them. "All right. Don't hurt yourself!" he said kindly. "You're young enough to chuck the past and start again."
Toby's claw-like hands came up and closed upon his wrist. "Wish I could, sir," he whispered with lips that quivered. "Haven't had much of a chance—so far, sir."
"All right," Saltash said again. "It's up to you. I shan't interfere. Don't expect too much of me; that's all I ask! I'm not considered exactly a suitable companion for young things like you."
He drew his hand away and lighted his cigarette. Toby turned his face into the cushion and lay very still.
Larpent, returning, wondered what his patron had been saying to make the boy's eyes wet with tears, but betrayed no curiosity on the subject.
"Are you going to let him stay in here?" he asked, as he bound a lotion-soaked pad over the damaged eye.
"For the present," said Saltash. "Any objection?"
"Not the smallest." Larpent's tone was absolutely noncommittal. "Make him lie quiet, that's all!"
"He'll do that," said Saltash with confidence.
"Good!" said Larpent. "We're in for a blow before we reach Gib or I'm much mistaken."
"Do us all good," said Saltash with satisfaction.
Larpent looked grim and said no more.
"Frightened?" asked Saltash of Toby when he was gone.
Toby chuckled at the thought. "Not a bit, sir."
"Good sailor by any chance?" questioned Saltash.
"No, sir; rotten, sir." Quite undaunted came the reply.
"Well, shut your eyes and go to sleep!" commanded Saltash, and spread a rug over the small, curled-up figure.
Toby murmured his thanks and relaxed with a big sigh of content.
Some hours later, when the blow that Larpent had prophesied had arrived in earnest and the yacht was pitching on a wild sea in the light of a lurid sunset, Saltash came below to change.
He was met by Toby, ghastly of face but still desperately smiling, who sprang from his couch to wait upon him, and collapsed at his feet.
"Little ass!" said Saltash, barely preventing himself from tumbling over him headlong.
He lifted the light, trembling figure and put it down again upon the couch. Then he poured out a dose of brandy and water and, holding the boy's head on his arm while the yacht lifted and tossed, compelled him to drink it.
"Now you lie quiet!" he commanded. "Don't stir an eyelid till I give you leave!"
The porthole was shut, and the atmosphere close and stuffy. Toby put forth an appealing hand and clung to his protector's sleeve.
"Mayn't I come on deck, sir?" he murmured anxiously. "Please, sir!"
"No," said Saltash.
Toby said no more, but his fingers fastened like a bird's claw on the man's arm, and he shivered.
"You're frightened!" said Saltash.
"No, sir! No, sir!" he protested.
"Yes, you are. You needn't bother to lie to me. I always know." Saltash's voice held an odd note of comradeship. "Beastly sensation, isn't it? Have some more brandy!"
Then, as Toby refused, he sat down abruptly on the edge of the couch and thrust an arm out to him. Toby crept to him then like a nervous dog and trembled against his side.
"Little ass!" said Saltash again. "Been lying here sweating with terror, have you? There's nothing whatever to sweat about. She's as safe as houses."
"Yes, sir. I know, sir," whispered Toby apologetically.
Saltash's arm surrounded him with a comforting closeness. "You miserable little shrimp!" he said. "How's the head?"
"Better, sir. Thank you, sir," muttered Toby.
"Why not tell the truth for once and say it hurts like hell?" suggested
Saltash.
Toby was silent.
"Do you know what I'm going to do with you?" said Saltash.
"No, sir." Toby stirred uneasily.
The vessel pitched to a sudden slant and Saltash braced himself, protecting the fair head from a blow against the woodwork behind him. "I'm going to put you to bed in my bunk here," he said. "You've got to have a decent night's rest. Did Murray look you out any spare slops? I told him to."
"Oh, yes, sir. Thank you, sir. But I couldn't sleep in your bunk, sir—please, sir—indeed, sir!" Toby, still held by the sheltering arm, waxed incoherent, almost tearful.
Saltash pulled him up short. "You'll do as I tell you—now and always," he said, with royal finality. "You've put yourself in my hands, and you'll have to put up with the consequences. Got that?"
"Yes, sir," said Toby meekly.
"Then don't forget it!" said Saltash.
Toby subsided without further protest. Perhaps the brandy helped to make him quiescent, or perhaps it was only the realization of his utter weakness and dependence; but from that moment he was as submissive as if he had been indeed the small captive animal to which his new owner had likened him. At Saltash's behest and with
