And at eight bells Geordie spoke to the chief officer, who was quite as anxious as the skipper to keep his billet.
"It shall be done, Mr. Potts," said Ware.
In the first watch that night Geordie felt very tired, and said so. When it was eight bells in the middle watch he was still asleep, or pretended to be.
"Rouse out, howner," said Braby, and he shook Geordie up.
"I feels tolerable ill," said Geordie; "I don't think I shall turn out."
He didn't, and the rest of the port watch went on deck by themselves. At the muster Mr. Potts didn't answer to his name.
"Mr. Potts is hill, sir," said the obsequious watch; "'e said 'e couldn't turn out."
"I thought it would come soon," said Brose to himself. And he went for'ard to the fo'c's'le.
"Are you very ill?" he asked, drily.
"I don't know quite how I feel," said the owner, "but I thinks a little drop of brandy would do me good."