"Dale ought to have tugged you out a couple of days ago, and given you a bucket of water. There, nothing whatever's the matter with him, Brymer. Come along, and I'll report the case to the captain." "Well, to see the way he was showing fight," said the mate, "didn't seem to me like being weak." "Weak? Pish! You did quite right, Dale. I'm sympathetic enough with any poor fellow who is really bad, but if there is anything that raises my dander it's a cowardly pitiful fellow who gives up for nothing. Look here, sir, if you're not on deck in a quarter of an hour, I shall suggest strong measures to the captain in answer to his order to come down and see how you were." He stepped out of the little cabin, but put his head in again. "Open that window, Dale, my lad, this place is stifling." "Yes," said the first mate. "On deck in a quarter of an hour, sir, or you'll wish yourself on shore." They both left the cabin, and I only made poor Walters more bitter against me by bursting out laughing as he began to dress quickly. "A set of brutes!" he grumbled; "a set of unfeeling brutes!" "There, drop it now," I cried; "I shall stop and help you." "You'll stop till I help you," he said through his clenched teeth. "I shan't forget this." "All right," I replied, and I left him to himself to cool down; but feeling sorry for him, and thinking that I had been unfeeling, I hurried off to the cook, who was pretending to be very busy in the galley, and who gave me a suspicious look as soon as I showed myself at the door. "I say, have you got any beef-tea?" I asked. "Beef-tea, sir!" he said, giving the lad with him a sharp look. "Anything else, sir?--Turtle, sir; gravy, spring, or asparagus soup,-- like it now?" I stared for a moment, then seeing that the man was poking fun at me, I changed my tone and slipped a shilling in his hand. "Look here," I cried; "Mr Walters has been very queer and he's now getting up, can't you give me a basin of soup for him?" "Soup, sir! Ah, now you're talking wisdom. I'll see what I can do; but to talk about beef-tea just when the butcher's shop round the corner's shut up--butcher's shop is shut up, arn't it, Tom?" he continued, turning to his assistant. "Yes; all gone wrong. Trade was so bad." "Now, no chaff," I said; "you will get me a basin of something?" "I should think so, sir. Here, Tom, strain off some of the liquor from that Irish stoo." A lid was lifted off, and a pleasant savoury steam arose as a basinful of good soup was ladled out, strained into another, and then the man turned to me-- "Like to try one yourself, sir?" "Yes," I cried eagerly, for the odour was tempting. "No," I said, resisting the temptation. "Give us hold," and the next minute I was on my way back with the basin and a spoon toward the cabin aft.