"You wait till I get up." "You're not going to get up," I said, "till you promise to behave yourself." "I'll make you sorry for this, my fine fellow, as soon as I'm well." "Then you had better do it at once," I said, "if you can." He gave another heave, but I was too firmly settled, and he subsided again, and lay panting and glaring at me fiercely. "There, let's have no more nonsense," I said at last; "don't be so silly. I only did it all in fun to get you to make an effort. Will you get up quietly and shake hands?" "No!" he roared, and he gave such a jerk that I had hard work to keep my seat, while he struck at me savagely with his doubled fists. "Wo ho!" I cried, as I managed to secure his wrists, and now as I saw his malignant look, I began to feel uncomfortable, and to wish that I had gone some other way to work to bring him round. "You shall repent all this, you wretch!" he cried. "Pooh!" I said contemptuously, for my own temper was rising; "I am not afraid. There, get up and dress at once, and don't make an idiot of yourself." As I spoke I gathered myself together, and with one effort I sprang to my feet, being quite on my guard, but expecting the greater part of what he had said was talk, and that he would not dress himself. But to my astonishment he leaped up, dashed at me, striking out right and left, and the next minute there would have been an angry fight on the way, if the door had not suddenly darkened and a voice which I recognised as Mr Brymer's exclaimed-- "Hullo! what's all this?" My rising anger was checked on the instant as Walters started back, and the chief mate and Mr Frewen came in. "Walters has got a fit, sir," I said, laughing. "I haven't," he cried furiously; "this cowardly beast has been dragging me out of my bunk when I was so ill I could hardly move myself." "The captain said he was to get up, sir," I pleaded; "and I tried to coax him first, but he wouldn't stir. Then I did pull him out, but he's been going on like mad ever since." "Let me see," said Mr Frewen, seriously, and he felt Walters' pulse. "Let me look at your tongue, sir," he continued; "no, no, not the tip. Out with it. Hah! And so you had the heart to drag this poor fellow out of his bed, Dale, when he was as weak as a baby?" "Why, I could hardly hold him, sir," I protested. "He's stronger than I am, only I got him down and sat upon him." "Sat upon him--got him down! Why, you might have killed him." "I didn't think he was bad, sir," I said. "You should have seen him a little while ago." "Oh!" groaned Walters, piteously, and he lowered the lids of his eyes, and then let them wander feebly about the cabin. "He's looking for his breeches," said the doctor, changing his tone. "There, dress yourself, you cowardly sham!" he cried. "A great strong healthy lad like you, who has been to sea for eighteen months, to lay up like a sickly weak girl. You ought to be ashamed of yourself." Walters opened his eyes widely and stared.