"Now, drink that grog," said the captain.
"Please, sir, I would rather not."
"Then go into the foretop and stay all night."
The poor boy looked away up to the masthead, trembling at the thought of spending the night there, but he had to obey.
In the morning the captain, in walking the deck, looked up, and cried,
"Halloo, up there!"
No answer.
"Come down!"
Still no answer.
One of the sailors was sent up, and what do you think he found? The poor boy was nearly frozen. He had lashed himself to the mast, so that when the ship rolled, he might not fall into the sea. The sailor brought the boy down in his arms, and they worked upon him until he showed signs of life. Then, when he was able to sit up, the captain poured out some liquor and said:—
"Now, drink that grog."