Quite unconsciously the captain unbuttoned his overcoat, and his hand strayed to the pocket at the top.
"No--nothing," stammered Bertie.
"Nothing! I don't know what you call nothing! I should think you was being murdered, hollering out like that. Why don't you go down to the cabin and go to sleep?"
The captain drew the man aside.
"My nephew is a little excitable at times," he said, and tapped his forehead. "He is best away from the cabin. He is better alone up here in the fresh air with me."
The man, a weather-beaten sailor, with an unkempt grey beard, looked him straight in the face.
"Do you mean he's cracked?"
"Well, we don't call it by that name. He's excitable--not quite himself at times. You had better pay no heed to him; he has one of his fits on him to-night--the journey has excited him."
"Poor young feller!"
And the sailor turned to look at the boy. The captain slipped something into his hand. The man touched his hat and went away, looking at the piece of money as he went. And the man and the boy were left alone again.