CHAPTER XII.
A BULLY GETS A LESSON.
For a moment the big form of the paint-covered bully swayed aboutblindly and helplessly. Then, dashing the paint from his eyes, heemitted a roar like that of a stricken bull.
Jackies at work near at hand, who had seen the accident, gazed atHerc, who had by this time slid to the deck--in a sort of pityingway. They knew Kennell too well to suppose that he would let such anoccurrence--even if it were an accident--pass by unrevenged.
"I'm sorry, Kennell; it was an accident," exclaimed Herc, one handextended, and the other gathering up the loose end of his work-blouse;"here, let me wipe some of it off with this."
He stepped forward, with the intention of doing all he could to repairthe damage he had unwittingly caused, but Kennell, with an angry sweepof his arm, waved him furiously back. To increase the bully's rage,some of the men near at hand began to laugh.
"My! what a lovely complexion the kid has when he's all rouged up!"laughed one.
"Kennell's got his battle-paint on," jeered another.
It was easy to see that none of the men particularly regretted theaccident to the bully, whom none of them had any particular reason tolove.
From their suspended bosn's chairs, Ned and old Tom watched the scenewith some apprehensions. Ned was a shrewd enough reader of characterto know that the affair could hardly end by Kennell's peaceablyaccepting Herc's apology; while old Tom knew Kennell's nature too wellto entertain any doubt that the young seaman was in for a terribletrouncing.
"You--you--red-headed clod-hopper!" grated Kennell savagely through hismask of "war-paint," when he found his voice. Somehow, he looked soludicrous, showing his teeth, like a snarling dog, through his panoplyof pigment, that Herc, to save his life, could not have restrainedhimself from bursting into a hearty laugh.
"I--pardon me, Kennell; oh, ha! ha! ha! ha! I--I'm awfully sorry.Please accept my apologies. It was, ha, ha, ha, ha! an accident--reallyit was. Won't you forgive me?"
Herc held out his hand once more. As he did so, Ned shouted a sharpwarning from above.
It came too late.
Kennell's mighty arm shot out with the speed of a piston-rod, and itsimpact, full on Herc's laughing face, carried the boy crashing againstthe side rails.
"Take that, you pup, as a starter!" hissed Kennell "and I'm not throughwith you yet, either. I'll keep after you two whelps till you slink outof the service."
Herc, half-stunned, clambered to his feet, and stood swaying for amoment, as if he were about to keel over altogether. He rapidly pulledhimself together, however, and fixed a furious gaze on Kennell, whostood glaring at him with an upcurled lip and narrowed eyes.
Echoing the bellow that Kennell had let forth when the paint obscuredhis vision temporarily, Herc threw himself into a boxing attitude, andsprang straight for his opponent. It was the onslaught of a wild-cat ona bull.
"Take that, for tripping me overboard, you big coward," he snapped, ashe aimed a terrific uppercut at the ship's bully.
The unexpected blow caught Kennell with the force of a youngbattering-ram. Full on the point of his blunt jaw it landed, and raisedhim a good foot off the deck. He came crashing down like a felled tree,in a heap at the foot of the turret's barbette.
He lay there, seemingly senseless, while the ship plunged onward, and athin stream of red began to trickle from his head and spread over thenewly whitened deck.
Herc gazed down at his handiwork in consternation.
What if he had killed the man? Kennell lay there so still that itseemed reasonable to suppose that his life might be extinct. The streamof blood, too, alarmed Herc, who had struck out more on impulse thanwith any well-defined idea of knocking out the ponderous "Kid Kennell."
"Kennell, Kennell!" he breathed, bending over the prostrate man."Speak! Are you badly hurt?"
"Leave him alone, matey," counseled old Tom, who, with Ned, had sliddown from the turret-side. "He's a long way from dead. He's justasleep for a few minutes, and only got what was coming to him."
"Oh, is he all right?" questioned Herc, much relieved.
"Sure; it would take a harder punch than you've got to hurt 'Kid'Kennell seriously," put in a sailor at Herc's elbow; "but Heaven helpyou when the kid gets about again."
"Why?" asked Herc simply.
"Why? Oh, Lord!" groaned the sailors mirthfully, "why, red-head, he'llpound that ruby-colored head of yours into the middle of next Fourth ofJuly or pink calves'-foot jelly."
"Carry on, men! Carry on!" exclaimed a boatswain's mate, coming roundthe barbette at this moment.
"Why, what's all this?" he exclaimed the next minute, as his eyeslighted on the recumbent and paint-smeared figure of Kennell, and theflushed faces and anxious eyes of Ned and Herc.
"It's Kennell, sir; he's knocked out," volunteered one of the jackies.
"So I see. Who has so grossly violated the rules of the service as tohave been guilty of fighting?"
All eyes rested on poor Herc, who, coloring up to the roots of hiscolorful thatch, said, in a low voice:
"I have, sir."
Though the lad's tone was low, his voice never quavered.
"What you--Recruit Taylor--fighting?" queried the amazed boatswain'smate, who was no stranger to the record of the redoubtable Kennell, andinwardly marveled at what sort of fighting machine Herc must be to havelaid him low.
"Yes, sir; I'm sorry to say that I have," replied Herc, looking hissuperior straight in the eyes.
At this juncture the officer of the deck hastened up. From his stationamidships he had noted the sudden cessation of all activity forward. Hehad at once hastened to see what had occurred to stop the monotonousclock-work of the routine duties aboard.
"What's all this, Stowe?" he shot out sharply at the boatswain's mate,as his eyes took in the scene.
All the jackies had come to attention as the officer hurried up, but athis sharp command of:
"Carry on, men!" the work had gone forward, apparently as before,although, as my readers will judge, the men had one eye on their workand another on the scene that now transpired.
"Why, as well as I can make out, sir, this young recruit here,sir--Taylor, sir--has been fighting with Kennell, here, sir, and----"
"Seemingly knocked him out," snapped the officer, as Kennell began tostir. He sat up, blinking his eyes like a man who has been summonedback from another world.
As the bully rose, the officer--a young man with a good-naturedface--suddenly coughed violently and turned to the rail. His shouldersheaved and his handkerchief was stuffed up to his face.
The boatswain's mate gazed at him apprehensively. He thought hissuperior had become suddenly ill. As a matter of fact the sight ofKennell's puzzled countenance, blinking through the paint and vitalfluid, with which his features were bedaubed, had been too much for theofficer's gravity, and he had been compelled to turn away or suffer asevere loss of his dignity by bursting into a roar of laughter.
Finally he recovered himself, and turned, with a still quivering lip,which he bit incessantly, toward the battered Kennell and the others.
"What explanation have you to make of this?" he demanded of Herc, in asunshaken and stern a voice as if he had never suffered the loss of anounce of his gravity.
Poor Herc saluted and shuffled uneasily from one foot to another.
"Oh, I know he'll make a mess of it," thought Ned to himself. "I wishthe regulations would allow me to speak up for him."
"Come, sir; what have you to say?" reiterated the officer, as thesorry-looking Kennell got slowly to his feet. He glowered menacingly atHerc, as recollection of what had occurred began to come back to him.
"Why, sir, that young cur----" Kennell began.
"Silence, sir!" roared the officer; "I'll attend to you when your turncomes."
"I was painting the side of the turret," began Herc; "and, quite byaccident, the handle of my painting pail came off. Unfortunately, thisman happened to be passing below and the stuff doused him, just like asheep a
t dipping time, and----"
"Attention, sir! Never mind your comparisons. Proceed. You havenot yet accounted for the extraordinary condition of this man'scountenance."
"Why, sir, _that's_ the paint," sputtered Herc, as if astonished at theofficer's simplicity.
"Exactly. I understand. You say that such a thing was an accident.Possibly, it was. But how do you account for the fact that the manKennell was lying insensible at the foot of the turret, with that cutover his eye?"
"I did that, too, sir," admitted Herc ruefully.
"What, you cut his eye like that?"
"No, sir; I guess that he must have done that when he fell. I just gavehim a sleep wallop----"
"Attention, sir! Use more respectful intelligible language," said thelieutenant, suddenly becoming much more interested in some object onthe far horizon; so much so that he had once more to turn his backon the Dreadnought Boys, the boatswain's mate and the open-mouthedjackies. In a minute he faced round again, as grave as before.
"I hope you are not sea-sick, sir?" began Herc solicitously, for he hadobserved the officer's handkerchief at his mouth. The lad could notimagine that a scene so serious to him could appear ludicrous to anyone else. "If you are, Pills, the doctor, I mean----"
"Silence, sir! You need disciplining. You admit, then, that you hitthis man?"
"Yes, sir, but he----"
"Silence! Answer 'yes' or 'no,' please."
"Well, 'yes'," admitted Herc.
"Why in the great horn-spoon doesn't he ask him if Kennell hit himfirst?" groaned Ned, regarding the examination from a prudent distance.
"This case calls for a full investigation," snapped the officer;"fighting aboard a man-o'-war is one of the most serious offenses anenlisted man can commit. Messenger!"
"Sir!"
"Get the master-at-arms, and request him to come forward and report tome at once."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The messenger sped aft on his errand, while a dreadful silence ensued,which even the irrepressible Herc had not the courage to break.
Evidently something dire was about to happen to him.