“What is it?” inquired the pallid skipper.
The mate, leaning for support against the wheel, opened his mouth, but no words came; the cook, his hands straight by his side and his eyes glassy, made a picture from which the crew drew back in awe.
“What’s—the—matter?” said the skipper again.
Then the mate, regaining his composure by an effort, spoke.
“You needn’t trouble to fasten the companion again,” he said slowly.
The skipper’s face changed from white to grey. “Why not?” he asked in a trembling voice.
“He’s dead,” was the solemn reply.
“Nonsense,” said the other, with quivering lips. “He’s shamming or else fainting. Did you try to bring him round?”
“I did not,” said the mate. “I don’t deceive you. I didn’t stay down there to do no restoring, and I don’t think you would either.”
“Go down and see whether you can wake him, cook,” said the skipper.