"That's the best thing that could have happened to him," exclaimed the boatswain. "Let him lie a bit. He'll come to, and maybe leave his craze behind him. It wouldn't be the fust time I've seen a daft man knocked sensible."
And then, coolly biting a chew out of a stick of tobacco, which he very carefully replaced in his breeches pocket, he added—
"Jim, come and lay hold of this here wheel, will yer, while me and Mr. Royle pumps the ship out!"
Cornish got up and took the boatswain's place.
"I can help you to pump, Mr. Royle!" said Miss Robertson.
The boatswain laughed.
"Lor' bless your dear 'art, miss, what next?" he cried. "No, no; you stand by here ready to knock this steward down agin if he shows hisself anxious to swim arter the Roosian. We'll see what water the ship's a-makin', and if she shows herself obstinate, as I rayther think she will, why, we'll all turn to and leave her. For you've got to deal with a bad ship as you would with a bad wife: use every genteel persuasion fust, and if that won't alter her, there's nothen for it but to grease your boots, oil your hair, and po-litely walk out."