“I am lying still,” said Carey, peevishly. “Tell me directly; what’s the matter?”
“Why, you said you knowed. I heard yer. You said you fell from up aloft.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Carey; “but the doctor asked you if the ship was much broken up.”
“Did he, sir?”
“You know he did, and you said she had got some holes in her bottom.”
“Did I, sir?”
“Yes, yes, of course you did,” cried Carey, impatiently.
“Well, it’s a rum un, then, sir.”
“Now, no nonsense; tell me, surely. Oh, I don’t understand!” sighed the boy, wearily.
“Here we are, my boy,” said the doctor, entering with a piece of glass tube bent at right angles. “Give me the glass, Bostock.”