"At twelve o'clock in the day, the fust mate got a cough, and every time
he coughed it seemed to act upon the skipper, and make him madder and
madder. Now that it was broad daylight, Mr. McMillan didn't seem to be
so creepy as the night before, an' I could see the cap'n was only
waiting for the slightest excuse to get into our proper course again.
"'That's a nasty, bad cough o' yours, Mr. Salmon,' ses he, eyeing the
mate very hard.
"'Yes, a nasty, irritating sort o' cough, sir,' ses the other; 'it
worries me a great deal. It's this going up nor'ards what's sticking in
my throat,' ses he.
"The cap'n give a gulp, and walked off, but he comes back in a minute,
and ses he--
"'Mr. Salmon, I should think it a great pity to lose a valuable officer
like yourself, even to do good to others. There's a hard ring about that
cough I don't like, an' if you really think it's going up this bit
north, why, I don't mind putting the ship in her course again.'
"Well, the mate thanked him kindly, and he was just about to give the
orders when one o' the men who was at the masthead suddenly shouts out--
"'Ahoy! Small boat on the port bow!'
"The cap'n started as if he'd been shot, and ran up the rigging with his
glasses. He came down again almost direckly, and his face was all in a
glow with pleasure and excitement.
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