"I want you to give me something for red-hot corkscrews in the inside."
"I beg your pardon," said the doctor, humbly; "I'm only the cook."
"If you—don't—prescribe for me at once," said the skipper, "I'll put you in irons."
The doctor shook his head. "I shipped as cook," he said, slowly.
"Give me something, for Heaven's sake!" said the skipper, humbly. "I'm dying." The doctor pondered.
"If you dinna treat him at once, I'll break your skull," said the mate, persuasively.
The doctor regarded him scornfully, and turned to the writhing skipper.
"My fee is half a guinea a visit," he said, softly; "five shillings if you come to me."
"I'll have half a guinea's worth," said the agonized skipper.
The doctor took his wrist, and calmly drew the second officer's watch from its owner's pocket. Then he inspected the sick man's tongue, and shaking his head, selected a powder from the chest.