“You can come up now,” said the skipper, as he caught sight of George’s face at the scuttle.
“Has she gone?” inquired the seaman anxiously.
The skipper nodded, and a wild cheer rose from the crew of the brig as George came on deck in his scanty garments, and from behind the others peered cautiously over the side.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
The skipper pointed to the boat.
“That?” said George, starting. “That? That ain’t my wife.”
“Not your wife?” said the skipper, staring. “Whose is she then?”
“How the devil should I know?” said George, throwing discipline to the winds in his agitation. “It ain’t my wife.”
“P’raps it’s one you’ve forgotten,” suggested the skipper in a low voice.
George looked at him and choked. “I’ve never seen her before,” he replied, “s’elp me. Call her back. Stop her.”