“But I shan’t be a bit of use, sir; I shan’t indeed. I’m ashamed of myself, but I can’t help it.”
“There, I know,” said the doctor kindly; “get to your berth and lie still for a few hours. You’ll be ready to laugh at your weakness before long.”
“Laugh, sir? laugh? No, I don’t think I shall ever laugh again.”
The door swung to after the man’s exit, and the doctor returned to Jack’s cabin.
“Well,” he said, “feel very queer?”
“Can’t you see, doctor?” said the boy, giving him a piteous look.
“Yes, of course I can, my lad; but lie still, and you’ll soon get over it. Some people do get troubled this way. Haven’t you read that Lord Nelson used to have a fit whenever he went to sea?”
Jack made no reply, for he was in that condition which makes a sufferer perfectly indifferent about everything and everybody, and when it is no satisfaction to know that the greatest people in the world suffered in a similar way. All they can think of then is self.
Sir John came down soon after, and sat with his son for awhile, trying to encourage him, but poor Jack hardly answered him, and at last he began to be anxious, and went to join the doctor, who was on deck chatting with the captain.
“I wish you’d go down and see to the boy,” he said; “he looks so white, I feel anxious.”