"I b'lieve it's sleeping on the hard floor's snapped
something inside me."
"If you don't go I'll take you," said the skipper, and he was about to
rise to put his threat into execution when a shadow fell across the
opening, and a voice, which thrilled him to the core, said softly,
"Jemmy!"
"Yes 'm?" said Jemmy languidly, as the skipper flattened himself in his
bunk and drew the clothes over him.
"How do you feel?" inquired Mrs. Harbolt.
"Bad all over," said Jemmy. "Oh, don't come down, mum--please don't."
"Rubbish!" said Mrs. Harbolt tartly, as she came slowly and carefully
down backwards. "What a dark hole this is, Jemmy. No wonder you're ill.
Put your tongue out."
Jemmy complied.
"I can't see properly here," murmured the lady, "but it looks very
large. S'pose you go in the other bunk, Jemmy. It's a good bit higher
than this, and you'd get more air and be more comfortable altogether."
"Joe wouldn't like it, mum," said the boy anxiously. The last glimpse he
had had of the skipper's face did not make him yearn to share his bed
with him.
"Stuff an' nonsense!" said Mrs. Harbolt hotly. "Who's Joe, I'd like to
know? Out you come."
"I can't move, mum," said Jemmy firmly.
"Nonsense!" said the lady. "I'll just put it straight for you first,
then in it you go.
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