“Show me what you’ve got,” said Mrs. Bradd, leaning forward.
The mate pulled out an old leather purse and counted the contents, two pounds and a little silver.
“There isn’t five pounds there,” said Mrs. Bradd, “but I may as well take last week’s housekeeping while you’ve got it out.”
Before the mate could prevent her she had taken the two pounds and put it in her pocket. He looked at her placid face in amazement, but she met his gaze calmly and drummed on the table with her thimble.
“No, no, I want the money myself,” said the mate at last. He put his hands to his head and began to prepare for the grand transformation scene. “My head’s gone,” he said, in a gurgling voice. “What am I doing here? Where am I?”
“Good gracious, what’s the matter with the man?” said Mrs. Bradd, with a scream. She snatched up a bowl of flowers and flung the contents in his face as her husband burst into the room. The mate sprang to his feet, spluttering.
“What am I doing here, Cap’n Bradd?” he said in his usual voice.
“He’s come round!” said Bradd, ecstatically. “He’s come round. Oh, George, you have been playing the fool. Don’t you know what you’ve been doing?”
The mate shook his head, and stared round the room. “I thought we were in London,” he said, putting his hand to his head. “You said Cap’n Zingall was coming aboard. How did we get here? Where am I?”
In a hurried, breathless fashion the skipper told him, the mate regarding him the while with a stare of fixed incredulity.