I tried to save him, but he was too heavy, and we went down together with him half over me; but I didn’t feel it much, for he was very soft. You see he had got one leg half-way into his trousers, when the Burgh Castle gave a lurch, and bang he went up against the bulk-head, and then on to the floor.
“Hurt yourself much, sir?” I said, as we both struggled up.
“Oh, horri— no, no, not much, thank you,” he muttered. “I—I—haven’t quite got my sea-legs yet, as you sailors call it. That’s better. Now if you wouldn’t mind, Mr Dale.”
I didn’t mind, of course, and I helped him all I could, thinking all the while he was like a big fat boy we used to have at school, only Mr Preddle was nearly three times the size. And all the time, though he must have felt very faint and poorly, he kept a good face upon his troubles, trying to laugh and make light of them, till I said, merrily—
“That’s the way, Mr Preddle. Now, if you get up on deck and don’t think about the ship rolling, you will soon be better.”
“Yes,” he said; “I believe I should if I only could keep from thinking about the ship rolling. But it won’t let me.” This was while he was rubbing his big, round, smooth face, which looked as good-natured as possible, though the smile upon it was only forced.
“Oh, but you’ll soon get over it,” I cried. “I’ll stop and help you up.”
“Yes, do please stop,” he said hurriedly; “but don’t try and help me up. I’m going to walk up and balance myself. I shall keep close to the bulwarks, don’t you call them, and hold on. Which is the best side?”
“I should go along on the weather side,” I replied. “You may get splashed a bit; but you’ll soon learn not to mind that. I’ve often been drenched when out in the yacht with father, but one soon got dry again.”
“Didn’t you catch a bad cold?” he said, out of the towel.