“You've no other passengers than ourselves, have you?” asked Beecher.
“Only that gentleman yonder,” whispered the Captain, pointing towards the stranger.
“Few, I take it, fancy coming out in such weather,” said Beecher.
“Very few, sir, if they have n't uncommonly strong reasons for crossing the water,” replied the Captain.
“I think he had you there!” growled Grog in his ear. “Don't you go poking nonsense at fellows like that. Shut up, I tell you! shut up!”
“I begin to feel it deuced cold here,” said Beecher, shuddering.
“Come down below, then, and have something hot. I 'll make a brew and turn in,” said Davis, as he moved towards the ladder. “Come along.”
“No, I must keep the deck, no matter how cold it is. I suffer dreadfully when I go below. Send me up a tumbler of rum-and-water, Davis, as hot as may be.”
“You 'd better take your friend's advice, sir,” said the Captain. “It will be dirty weather out there, and you 'll be snugger under cover.” Beecher, however, declined; and the Captain, crossing the deck, repeated the same counsel to the other passenger.
“No, I thank you,” said he, gayly; “but if one of your men could spare me a cloak or a cape, I 'd be much obliged, for I am somewhat ill-provided against wet weather.”