“Then I see his little game, but I wasn’t going to run any risks, so I just mentioned, permiscous like, to the cook as old Dan seemed rather queer, an’ went back an’ tried to borrer the book, being always fond of reading. Old Dan pretended he was too ill to hear what I was saying, an’ afore I could take it away from him, the skipper comes hurrying down with a bag in his ’and. “‘What’s the matter, my man?’ ses he, ‘what’s the matter?’ “‘I’m all right, sir,’ ses old Dan, ’cept that I’ve been swoonding away a little.’ “‘Tell me exactly how you feel,’ ses the skipper, feeling his pulse. “Then old Dan said his piece over to him, an’ the skipper shook his head an’ looked very solemn. “‘How long have you been like this?’ he ses. “‘Four or five years, sir,’ ses Dan. ‘It ain’t nothing serious, sir, is it?’ “‘You lie quite still,’ ses the skipper, putting a little trumpet thing to his chest an’ then listening. ‘Um! there’s serious mischief here I’m afraid, the prognotice is very bad.’ “‘Prog what, sir?’ ses Dan, staring. “‘Prognotice,’ ses the skipper, at least I think that’s the word he said. ‘You keep perfectly still, an’ I’ll go an’ mix you up a draught, and tell the cook to get some strong beef-tea on.’ “Well, the skipper ’ad no sooner gone, than Cornish Harry, a great big lumbering chap o’ six feet two, goes up to old Dan, an’ he ses, ‘Gimme that book.’ “‘Go away,’ says Dan, ‘don’t come worrying ’ere; you ’eard the skipper say how bad my prognotice was.’ “‘You lend me the book,’ ses Harry, ketching hold of him, ‘or else I’ll bang you first, and split to the skipper arterwards. I believe I’m a bit consumptive. Anyway, I’m going to see.’ “He dragged the book away from the old man, and began to study. There was so many complaints in it he was almost tempted to have something else instead of consumption, but he decided on that at last, an’ he got a cough what worried the fo’c’sle all night long, an’ the next day, when the skipper came down to see Dan, he could ’ardly ’ear hisself speak. “‘That’s a nasty cough you’ve got, my man,’ ses he, looking at Harry. “‘Oh, it’s nothing, sir,’ ses Harry, careless like. ‘I’ve ’ad it for months now off and on. I think it’s perspiring so of a night does it.” “‘What?’ ses the skipper. ‘Do you perspire of a night?’ “‘Dredful,’ ses Harry. ‘You could wring the clo’es out. I s’pose it’s healthy for me, ain’t it, sir?’ “‘Undo your shirt,’ ses the skipper, going over to him, an’ sticking the trumpet agin him. ‘Now take a deep breath. Don’t cough.’ “‘I can’t help it, sir,’ ses Harry, ‘it will come. Seems to tear me to pieces.’ “‘You get to bed at once,” says the skipper, taking away the trumpet, an’ shaking his ’ed. ‘It’s a fortunate thing for you, my lad, you’re in skilled hands. With care, I believe I can pull you round. How does that medicine suit you, Dan?’ “‘Beautiful, sir,’ says Dan. ‘It’s wonderful soothing, I slep’ like a new-born babe arter it.’