“I’ll tell Mr Walters what you say, Hampton.”
“No, sir, I wouldn’t do that; ’cause if you do, he’ll have his knife into me. I on’y meant it as good advice. He on’y wants rousin’ up. Why, if you was to set some of us to rattle a chain over his head, and then make a rash, and you went down and telled him the ship was sinking, he’d be quite well, thank ye, and come on deck and look out for a place in the first boat.”
“You’re too hard upon him,” I said, and not liking to hear the man talk in this way, which sounded like an attempt to, what my father used to call, curry favour, I went aft to find that the invalid passenger, Mr John Denning, had been helped out on to the poop-deck by his sister and the steward, and was now having a cane-chair lashed for him close up by the mizzen-mast.
He beckoned as he caught sight of me, just as he was being lowered into his place, and I went up slowly, for the captain and Mr Frewen were by his side, and as I approached I heard him say rather irritably—
“Thank you, doctor. If I feel unwell I will ask you to help me. I’m quite right, only half-suffocated by being down so long.”
“Very good, Mr Denning. I only thought you might wish to avail yourself of my services.”
“Thank you; yes—of course.”
I saw Miss Denning look pained, and press her brother’s arm.
He turned upon her impatiently.
“Yes, yes, Lena, I know,” he said; “and I have thanked Mr Frewen for his attention. Now I want to be alone.”