"Splendid!" cried Ben, who was wiping the spray from his face.
Ralph said nothing, but smiled a ghastly smile.
"What's your names, boys? I haven't heard yet."
"I'm Ben Carver; my folks live in--Why, what's the matter, Ralph? you look like a ghost!"
"He feels like one too, I'll be bound!" exclaimed Marcus, who was scraping the breakfast refuse over the side of the vessel.
"Are you sick, Ralph?" asked Ben, putting his hand on him.
"A little, but it will soon be gone," said Ralph, trying to brace himself against the terrible feeling that had seized upon him.
"P'raps it will, and p'raps it won't," said Marcus with a laugh.
"Get rid o' them potatoes and things, and then you'll feel better," said the captain kindly.--"Marcus, mix him some hot ginger."
Ben was feeling very well still, or he forgot himself in waiting upon his friend, making him as comfortable as possible in the bow of the boat, where the breeze would blow over him, and where he was out of the way.