"Yes, sir. All well below," in thin and ghostly voice.
The old man nodded satisfaction.
"Starry fighter, ain't he?—Wonderful gift that way. Don't know as
I ever saw his ekal at a pinch."
He looked up at the lad, swaying above him.
"Feel funny?"
The boy did not reply, leaning against the side, a far-away look in his eyes.
Then he burst into tears.
"There, there!" said the old man soothingly. "Sure to come a bit okkud-like first start-off. It's been a nasty beginning for you too—messy fightin, I call it. Look at my quarter-deck! More like a slaughter-house nor a King's ship."
He mopped at his leg.
"And all the shore-goin folk on their knees in Church all the time!—Funny to think on, ain't it?"