"I keep being tied up all in knots inside. I
can't hold myself straight."
The other cleared his throat. "You'd better take off your clothes and
lie down a bit," he said kindly. "Let me help you off with them."
"No--don't--trouble," panted the mate.
"It ain't no trouble," said the skipper, in a trembling voice.
"No, I'll keep 'em on," said the mate faintly. "I've always had an idea
I'd like to die in my clothes. It may be foolish, but I can't help it."
"You'll have your wish some day, never fear, you infernal rascal,"
shouted the overwrought skipper. "You're shamming sickness to make me
take the ship into port."
"Why shouldn't you take her in," asked the mate, with an air of innocent
surprise. "It's your duty as cap'n. You'd better get above now. The bar
is always shifting."
The skipper, restraining himself by a mighty effort, went on deck again,
and, taking the wheel, addressed the crew. He spoke feelingly of the
obedience men owed their superior officers, and the moral obligation
they were under to lend them their trousers when they required them. He
dwelt on the awful punishments awarded for mutiny, and proved clearly,
that to allow the master of a ship to enter port in petticoats was
mutiny of the worst type. He then sent them below for their clothing.
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