He held tight and pondered. But his brain reeled.
"I have no beard," said the new seaman; "I'm clean shaved. My hair's that short I can't catch hold of it. These ain't my clothes. I can't stand straight. But if this ain't my ship I'm mad."
"D'ye 'ear the pore devil?" asked Jack.
"I 'ears," said Corlett. "If 'e 'adn't told me I was a soldier I should say it was pafettick to 'ear 'im."
"This is a barque," said poor Juggins, "and so's the Enchantress. But she's at sea, and yesterday she was in Portland not ready to go for three days. This is a dream, it's an awful, awful dream. I'll wake up, I will, I will!"
He hung on the pin desperately, and as he stood there Dodman walked for'ard to the break of the poop. He whistled lightly.
"Dodman used to whistle," said the man in a nightmare. "I used to tell him I wouldn't have it. I said it was a street-boy's habit. I shall wake presently, oh yes."
"Who's that jabbering on the main-deck?" asked Dodman.
"It's me," said the jabberer weakly, as a cloud of laudanum floated over his brain. "It's me, and I don't know who I am."
But Dodman jumped as if he had been shot. This was a voice from the grave; there seemed no mistaking Brogger's wretched pipe. But before the second mate could speak Jack Eales intervened.