“His mind’s wandering, pore feller,” interrupted Joe hurriedly. “What boat did you fall out of, matey?”
“A row-boat,” said Smith, trying to roll out of reach of the skipper, who was down on his knees flaying him alive with a roller-towel. “I had to undress in the water to keep afloat. I’ve lost all my clothes.”
“Pore feller,” said Dan.
“A gold watch and chain, my purse, and three of the nicest fellers that ever breathed,” continued Smith, who was now entering into the spirit of the thing.
“Poor chaps,” said the skipper solemnly. “Any of ’em leave any family?”
“Four,” said Smith sadly.
“Children?” queried the mate.
“Families,” said Smith.
“Look here,” said the mate, but the watchful Joe interrupted him.
“His mind’s wandering,” said he hastily. “He can’t count, pore chap. We’d better git him to bed.”