“Nor do I, Mr. Timmins,” said Harry, smiling.
“I pity you then. My life has been saved several times by pills.”
“I’d rather live without them.”
Marmaduke sadly shook his head as he walked away.
“That man’s a walking drug store,” said the mate, looking after him. “I’d rather go to Davy’s locker, and be done with it, than to fill myself up with pills and potions.”
“You’re looking chipper, my boy,” said a newcomer, in a nasal voice. “Haven’t been seasick, I guess.”
Harry recognized the voice of the Yankee inventor, Jonathan Stubbs.
“No, sir; I have had very little trouble.”
“I’m goin’ to get up a cure for seasickness when I have time—a kind of a self-acting, automatic belt—I guess there’d be plenty of money in it.”
“It would be a great blessing, Mr. Stubbs. Poor Mr. Clinton would no doubt be glad to buy it.”