“What did he say?”
“Said it would keep off the chill.”
“Yes, and what then?” said the lads, in a breath.
“I telled him, gentlemen, that the first luff had sent Mr Snelling the purser to me with a dose, and he just grunted at me and went up again. Oh, I’m all right enough. What about you, Mr Roberts, sir?”
“Thanks to you, Tom, I’m just as you say you are. But what about that fish?”
“Oh, it’s in the pot by now. The cook says it’s the biggest albicore he ever see in his life, and for sartain, gentlemen, I never see one much more than half as big. There’s bigger ones, of course, somewheres, but I never see one speared afore as would touch him. But I say, Mr Roberts, sir,” continued the man, “you do feel all right again, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, quite right, Tom; only a little bit achey about the back of the neck.”
“Course you do, sir. I felt like that both times when I got pretty nigh drownded. That’s ’cause you throws your head so far back, and it strains your muscles, sir. But never mind that, sir. It’ll soon go off. I was going to say, sir, if you felt right enough I should punish that there fish pretty hard.”
“I will, Tom,” said the lad merrily; and the man went on deck.
“Ready?” said Murray, as he finished dressing.