“What does he say?” said Johnson, turning round eagerly.
“Why,” exclaimed Flash Jack, who volunteered as interpreter, “he means he’s going to croak” (die).
“Croak! and what does that mean, applied to a patient?”
“Oh! I understand,” said he, when the word was explained; and he stepped over the stocks, and felt the man’s pulse.
“What’s his name?” he asked, turning this time to old Navy Bob.
“We calls him Jingling Joe,” replied that worthy.
“Well then, men, you must take good care of poor Joseph; and I will send him a powder, which must be taken according to the directions. Some of you know how to read, I presume?”
“That ere young cove does,” replied Bob, pointing toward the place where I lay, as if he were directing attention to a sail at sea.
After examining the rest—some of whom were really invalids, but convalescent, and others only pretending to be labouring under divers maladies, Johnson turned round, and addressed the party.
“Men,” said he, “if any more of you are ailing, speak up, and let me know. By order of the consul, I’m to call every day; so if any of you are at all sick, it’s my duty to prescribe for you. This sudden change from ship fare to shore living plays the deuce with you sailors, so be cautious about eating fruit. Good-day! I’ll send you the medicines the first thing in the morning.”