Though his head throbbed, and though a dizzy spell came over him every few minutes, Jack Benson stuck it out, up there beside his chum, for an hour.  Then, disdaining aid, he crept down the stairs, stretching himself out on one of the cabin seats.  Eph brought him a pillow and a blanket.  Jack soon slept, tossing uneasily whenever pain throbbed dully in his head.

“Guess I’ll go out and have a little look at the young captain,” proposed Sam Truax, an hour later.

“Try another guess,” retorted Eph, curtly.  “You’ll stay here in the engine room.  Jack Benson isn’t going to be bothered in any way.”

“I’m not going to bother him, just going to take a look at him,” protested Truax, moving toward the door that separated the engine room from the cabin.

But young Somers caught the stranger by the sleeve of the oily jumper that Sam had donned on beginning his work.

“Do you know what folks say about me?” demanded Eph, with a significant glare.

“What do they say?”

“Folks have an idea that, at most times, I’m one of the best-natured fellows on earth,” declared Eph, solemnly.  “Yet they do say that, when I’m crossed in anything my mind’s made up to, I can be tarnation ugly.  I just told you I don’t want the captain disturbed.  Do you know, Sam Truax, I feel a queer notion coming over me?  I’ve an idea that that feeling is just plain ugliness coming to life!”

Truax came back from the door, a grin on his face.  Yet, when he turned his head away, there was a queer, almost deadly flash in the fellow’s eyes.

Jack slept, uneasily, until towards the middle of the afternoon.  As soon as Eph found him awake, that young man brought the captain a plate of toast and a bowl of broth, both prepared at the little galley stove.

“Sit up and get away with these,” urged Eph, placing the tray on the cabin table.  “Wait a minute.  I’ll prop you up and put a pillow at your back.”

“This boat isn’t a bad place for a fellow when he’s knocked out,” smiled Jack.

“Any place ought to be good, where your friends are,” came, curtly, from young Somers.

As Captain Jack ate the warm food he felt his strength coming back to him.

“Poor old Hal has been up there in the conning tower all these hours,” muttered Captain Jack, uneasily.  “He must have that cramped feeling in his hands.”

“Humph!” retorted Eph.  “Not so you could notice it much, I guess.  It’s a simpleton’s job up in the conning tower to-day.  All he has to do is to shift the wheel a little to port, or to starboard, just so as to keep the proper interval from the ‘Dad’ boat.  Besides, I’ve been up there on relief, for an hour while you slept, and Hal came down and sat with the engines.  Cheer up, Jack.  No one misses you from the conning tower.”

Benson laughed, though he said, warningly: 

“I reckon we’ll do as well to drop calling the gunboat the ‘Dad boat’ instead of the ‘parent vessel.’”