“Heaven forbid!” said Claude, with a slight shudder. “Would we not have heard a scream or yell?”
“Never a scream or yell in that roaring gale,” replied Dr Barrett, coolly. “Bless you, sir, I’ve run them down before. Steward, another cup of coffee, please.”
“You’ve been often to these regions, doctor?”
“I’ve been often everywhere. I’m the veriest old son of a gun of a sea-dog of a doctor.”
“It’s as well no one else said that about you.”
“I wouldn’t mind. My skin is as hard as tortoise-shell. I’ve been married so often, you know.”
“Have you really now?” said the second mate, a merry-eyed little dark man. “Are all your wives dead?”
“What a question!” said Claude.
“Ah! never mind,” quoth the surgeon; “I’ll answer him, if he’ll only cut me another slice of that delicious corn-beef. Mind, it isn’t for a lady, so you may cut it as thick as you please.”
“But about your wives?”