“Oh, sir, please go to Mr. Menzies, I think he’s dead.”
In a moment he had sprung down the ladder, and was at the mate’s room.
“Mr. Menzies,” he called out loudly, as he opened the door—the mate woke at once.
“Hello, what’s up? What does this mean why are you off the poop, Mr. Ross,” he asked?
The second mate ran up on deck again, and caught me by the scruff of the neck, and was just about to strike me for telling him falsely, as he thought, when the captain stepped out of the companion on deck. Seeing the action of the second mate, he called out:
“Here Mr. Ross, what’s this about, what has the lad done?”
“He told me a lie, sir, when I sent him to call the mate.”
“I did not,” I retorted, “I’m not in the habit of telling lies, I told you I thought the mate was dead.”
Just then Mr. Menzies came on the poop and asked what was the reason the second mate came off the poop at night to call him.
The second mate then told him what I had said.