“Here, Jimpny,” shouted the captain, “get up, sir. Don’t hang in the rigging there like that.”
The man moaned, and only clung the closer.
“Do you hear, sir?” cried the captain; but the man was livid, and as he gazed wildly up at Mark, the lad lowered himself down, thrust an arm round one of the ropes, and took a firm grasp of his collar.
“What’s the matter, Mark?” cried the captain.
“He’s going to faint, I think.”
“Here, Small, up aloft with a rope there,” cried the captain, “and make it fast round him.”
The boatswain seized a coil of line and trotted to the other side of the deck. Mark saw him cross, but was astonished to see how soon he appeared at the mast-head.
“Hold tight, youngster,” he said, “I’ll soon give him his physic.”
“What are you going to do?” cried Mark.
“Hang him. You’ll see,” said the boatswain with a chuckle.