"The wreck's crew is aboard, sir; barque Vavasour, of London, sir. The mate brought 'em off most gallantly, sir. I was to tell 'im when you come to, sir."
"Tell him, then," said the Captain, and closed his eyes wearily. The pain in his head blurred his thoughts, but his lifelong habit of waking from sleep to full consciousness, with no twilight of muddled faculties intervening, held good yet. He remembered, now, the new pins in the blocks, and there was even a tincture of amusement in his reflections. A soft tread beside him made him open his eyes.
"Well, Arthur," he said.
The tall young mate was beside him.
"Ah, father," he said cheerfully. "Picking up a bit, eh? That's good.
Ugly accident, that."
"Yes," replied the Captain, looking up into his face. "Block split, I suppose?"
"Yes," said the mate. "That's it. How do you feel?"
"You didn't notice the block, I suppose, when you put the new pins in?" asked the Captain.
"Can't say I did," answered the mate, "or I'd have changed it. You're not going to blame me surely, father?"
The Captain smiled. "No, Arthur, I'm not going to blame you," he said. "I want to hear how you brought off that barque's crew. Is it a good yarn for Minnie?"