“‘Mr. McMillan,’ ses he excitedly, ‘steer nor’-nor’-west until further orders. I’ve heard it again, an’ this time it nearly split the drum of my ear.’
“The ship’s course was altered, an’ after the old man was satisfied he went back to bed again, an’ almost directly arter eight bells went, an’ I was relieved. I wasn’t on deck when the fust mate come up, but those that were said he took it very calm. He didn’t say a word. He just sat down on the poop, and blew his cheeks out.
“As soon as ever it was daylight the skipper was on deck with his glasses. He sent men up to the masthead to keep a good look-out, an’ he was dancing about like a cat on hot bricks all the morning.
“‘How long are we to go on this course, sir?’ asks Mr. Salmon, about ten o’clock in the morning.
“‘I’ve not made up my mind, sir,’ ses the cap’n, very stately; but I could see he was looking a trifle foolish.
“At twelve o’clock in the day, the fust mate got a cough, and every time he coughed it seemed to act upon the skipper, and make him madder and madder. Now that it was broad daylight, Mr. McMillan didn’t seem to be so creepy as the night before, an’ I could see the cap’n was only waiting for the slightest excuse to get into our proper course again.
“‘That’s a nasty, bad cough o’ yours, Mr. Salmon,’ ses he, eyeing the mate very hard.
“‘Yes, a nasty, irritating sort o’ cough, sir,’ ses the other; ‘it worries me a great deal. It’s this going up nor’ards what’s sticking in my throat,’ ses he.
“The cap’n give a gulp, and walked off, but he comes back in a minute, and ses he—
“‘Mr. Salmon, I should think it a great pity to lose a valuable officer like yourself, even to do good to others. There’s a hard ring about that cough I don’t like, an’ if you really think it’s going up this bit north, why, I don’t mind putting the ship in her course again.’