“Thankye, sir,” said the man sadly.
“You are quite welcome, Tom,” said Murray, laughing; “but I suppose you can’t help all these weak beliefs.”
“No, sir, we can’t help it, some of us,” said the man simply; “it all comes of being at sea.”
“There being so much salt in the water, perhaps,” said Murray.
“Mebbe, sir; but I don’t see what the salt could have to do with it.”
“Neither do I, Tom, and if I didn’t know what a good fellow you are, and what a brave sailor, I should be ready to tell you a good deal more than I shall.”
“Go on, sir; I don’t mind, sir. I know you mean well.”
“But look here; I’m sorry to hear that your messmates think the Seafowl is an unfortunate craft. But not all, I hope?”
“Yes, sir; we all think so.”
“That’s worse still, Tom. But you don’t mean to forsake her—desert—I hope?”