The Greek Skipper.
“No, I can’t do it,” said Mr Burne after several brave efforts; “I really am a good deal jarred, and it is quite impossible. I am quite right as long as I keep still, but in such pain if I move that I can hardly bear it.”
“Then we will put off the journey for a week,” said the professor decisively.
“And disappoint the lad?” said Mr Burne. “No; you two must go.”
“How can you talk like that?” exclaimed Lawrence sharply, “when you have come on purpose to help me get strong again? Mr Preston, we shall stay here—shall we not?”
“Of course,” replied the professor. “The enjoyment of our trip depends upon our being staunch to one another.”
Mr Burne declared that it was absurd, and ridiculous, and nonsensical, and raked out a few other adjectives to give force to his sentiments, speaking in the most sour way possible; but it was very evident that he was highly pleased, and the steamer sailed without them.
The next day Mr Burne was so stiff that he could not walk about; but he refused to see a doctor, and a week passed before he could move without pain. Then one morning he declared that he was mending fast, and insisted upon inquiries being made respecting the sailing of the next steamer that would stop at one or other of the little towns on the south coast; but there was nothing bound in that direction, nor likely to be for another fortnight.
“And all my fault!” cried Mr Burne angrily. “Tut-tut-tut! Here, ring for the landlord.”
The landlord came and was questioned.