"You'd better speak to Mr. Ware," said Brose, choking. And at eight bells Geordie spoke to the chief officer, who was quite as anxious as the skipper to keep his billet. "It shall be done, Mr. Potts," said Ware. In the first watch that night Geordie felt very tired, and said so. When it was eight bells in the middle watch he was still asleep, or pretended to be. "Rouse out, howner," said Braby, and he shook Geordie up. "I feels tolerable ill," said Geordie; "I don't think I shall turn out." He didn't, and the rest of the port watch went on deck by themselves. At the muster Mr. Potts didn't answer to his name. "Mr. Potts is hill, sir," said the obsequious watch; "'e said 'e couldn't turn out." "I thought it would come soon," said Brose to himself. And he went for'ard to the fo'c's'le. "Are you _very_ ill?" he asked, drily. "I don't know quite how I feel," said the owner, "but I thinks a little drop of brandy would do me good." "I wish I could poison it," said Brose, under his voice. "This is most 'umiliatin' to a man in the persition of an officer." By noon Geordie was well enough to sit on deck and smoke a pipe. The "old man" came to see him. "Wouldn't you like a berth aft now, Mr. Potts?" urged the skipper. "I'll think about it, captain," said Geordie. "And in the meantime I don't think I'll turn to." The skipper turned to Brose. "We can dispense with Mr. Potts's services for the time, eh, Mr. Brose?" "Certingly," said Brose. But he walked to the rail and spat into the great Pacific. From that time onward Geordie did no work to speak of except to take his trick at the wheel. And when they were south of the Horn he decided to do that no longer. "If you'll take my wheel for the rest of the passage, I'll double your wages," he said to Braby. And Braby jumped at the offer. In the morning Geordie went to the poop. It was noticeable that he went up the weather poop ladder. Except in cases of hurry and emergency such a thing is next door to gross insubordination at sea. "I ain't goin' to take no more wheels," said Geordie. "And Braby will take mine. I've doubled his wages." Even old Smith gasped. As for Brose, he felt sea-sick for the first time since he first went down Channel in an outward-bounder thirty years before. "I'll make a note of it," said the skipper. They shortened sail in a quick flurry of a gale out of the south-west later in the day, and as all the topsails were down on the cap at once it was "jump," and no mistake. As an act of kindly condescension the owner went to the wheel and shoved away the Dutchman there, who was congratulating himself on not being on a topsail yard. "Get aloft, you Dutch swab," said Geordie; "I'll take her for you."