At eight bells the relieved officer-of-the-watch went below to a belated dinner. Soon afterwards Raxworthy dozed.
He was awakened by someone touching his shoulder.
“What is it?” he asked drowsily.
“Queer goings on, sir,” replied the chief petty officer. “Mr. Viner’s fallen asleep outside the chartroom, and three officers below are blind to the world!”
“What! three sheets in the wind?”
“No, sir; sort of in a trance. Even the surgeon-lieutenant. We’ve been trying to rouse them, but it’s no good.”
Raxworthy sat bolt upright.
“Officer-of-the-watch too!” he exclaimed. “All right, I’ll come along.”
He made his way to the bridge. The leading signalman and the quartermaster of the watch had carried Viner into the chartroom and laid him on the settee. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing stertorously.
His breath did not smell of spirits. The midshipman raised the unconscious officer’s arm and let it drop. It fell as if it were as heavy as lead.