“Only a word,” said Mr Preddle.
“Quick, then.”
“You were out on the deck some time, weren’t you?”
“Yes; a long time,” I replied impatiently. “Why?”
“Could you see how my poor fishes were getting on?”
“No, I couldn’t,” I said gruffly, for my temper was as sore as my body just then, and Mr Preddle irritated me; he did seem so girlish and weak.
“Now, Mr Frewen,” I said, “tell me what to do to your head.”
“Leave it alone,” he said, smiling, “or no, perhaps you had better do something to it; I shall be better and stronger, and I want all my strength now.”
“To help get back the ship?” I said.
“Yes, of course. Now then, my lad,” he continued, “you must think that you are a surgeon’s mate or dresser.” I nodded.