Phil reached for the hatchet, but Lazar ignored the motion and stepping away stood beside Captain Taylor.
“That man of yours, Lazar,” said the latter in a low voice, “should not be made to sleep in this damp hole any longer. He seems to show the effects greatly. I believe I shall order him back to the ship. You can pick out another reliable man to take his place and change them often.”
“I shall relieve him immediately, sir, but, with your permission, I would like to retain him with me. He is a valuable man to me.”
“Have it your own way,” the captain agreed, “but don’t let him sleep there any longer; he appears a sick man.”
Phil watched Captain Taylor and Lazar move slowly up the steps. The former threw an inquiring glance over his shoulder at the lads standing determinedly in the cellar. The officers disappeared and the midshipmen heard their footsteps enter the minister’s office above.
Phil turned a glance full of pity on Craig. The sailorman shook as if with ague.
“Are you ill?” asked Phil in sympathy.
“Yes, sir. I don’t want to stay here any longer,” the miserable man pleaded. “Can’t you, sir, get me back on board ship?”
Phil noticed the unhealthy pallor on the man’s cheeks.
“Have you a cough?” he asked.