“Now for a neat shob,” said Bol.
I went out sick, and was some time on deck ere I rallied. By and by Bol and his mate came up, and the boatswain said:
“She vhas all right now. How many men vhas dis dot I make up for der last heaf?”
“I don’t know,” said I.
“Veil, only dwenty-dwo. I steech opp half a leedle ship’s company mit cholera. Dere vhas fifteen all toldt. Sefen diedt. I steech ’em opp. I tell you, Mr. Fielding, vhen dot shob vhas ofer I feels like drinkin’.”
“Vhas he to be all night below?” said Galen.
“Yaw,” said I.
“Aboot der vatches, Mr. Fielding?” exclaimed Bol.
“Let that matter stand till we bury the captain.”
“Ay, ay, sir. Galen is der man, I belief.”