"What, go aloft?" asked the astronomer.
"And why not?" demanded Simpkins. "It's easy, going aloft—as easy as fallin' from the side of an 'ouse."
"So I should think," cried the astronomer, shivering. "I hope the weather will remain fine."
"You know it's really remarkable how useful such an uneducated man can be," he said presently to some of the others. "Now, what use am I?"
Simpkins was passing and heard this. He paused and eyed the astronomer.
"Well, to speak the truth, sir," he said sympathetically, "you ain't much; but you do what you can at the end of a rope. And I shouldn't be surprised if you're all right at 'ome."
"All of which is good against vanity," said the astronomer, as the barque under most of her plain sail steered east-south-east into the track of the Atlantic liners. "And do you know, absurd as it may seem, I am beginning to feel very well indeed—better than I have done for years."
As the night fell, the captain, who had by that time lost all his alcoholic courage, appealed for mercy. He shouted his petition to those on deck through the cabin port-hole. But he tried Simpkins first.
"Simpkins," he yelled.
"Yes, sir," said Simpkins, with his head over the rail.