It is curious how all this flashed through my mind, and held my attention—­although only momentarily—­in the face of the Skipper’s storming.  I think I had hardly realised he was still singing out at me.  Anyhow, the next thing I remember, he was shaking my arm.

“What’s the matter with you, man?” he was shouting.  And I just stared into his face, like an ass, without saying a word.  I seemed still incapable, you know, of actual, reasoning speech.

“Are you damned well off your head?” he went on shouting.  “Are you a lunatic?  Have you had sunstroke?  Speak, you gaping idiot!”

I tried to say something; but the words would not come clearly.

“I—­I—­I—­” I said, and stopped, stupidly.  I was all right, really; but I was so bewildered with the thing I had found out; and, in a way, I seemed almost to have come back out of a distance, you know.

“You’re a lunatic!” he said, again.  He repeated the statement several times, as if it were the only thing that sufficiently expressed his opinion of me.  Then he let go of my arm, and stepped back a couple of paces.

“I’m not a lunatic!” I said, with a sudden gasp.  “I’m not a lunatic, Sir, any more than you are.”

“Why the devil don’t you answer my questions then?” he shouted, angrily.  “What’s the matter with you?  What have you been doing with the ship?  Answer me now!”

“I was looking at that ship away on the starboard quarter, Sir,” I blurted out.  “She’s been signalling—­”

“What!” he cut me short with disbelief.  “What ship?”

He turned, quickly, and looked over the quarter.  Then he wheeled round to me again.

“There’s no ship!  What do you mean by trying to spin up a cuffer like that?”

“There is, Sir,” I answered.  “It’s out there—­” I pointed.

“Hold your tongue!” he said.  “Don’t talk rubbish to me.  Do you think I’m blind?”

“I saw it, Sir,” I persisted.

“Don’t you talk back to me!” he snapped, with a quick burst of temper.  “I won’t have it!”

Then, just as suddenly, he was silent.  He came a step towards me, and stared into my face.  I believe the old ass thought I was a bit mad; anyway, without another word, he went to the break of the poop.

“Mr. Tulipson,” he sung out.

“Yes, Sir,” I heard the Second Mate reply.

“Send another man to the wheel.”

“Very good, Sir,” the Second answered.

A couple of minutes later, old Jaskett came up to relieve me.  I gave him the course, and he repeated it.

“What’s up, mate?” he asked me, as I stepped off the grating.

“Nothing much,” I said, and went forrard to where the Skipper was standing on the break of the poop.  I gave him the course; but the crabby old devil took no notice of me, whatever.  When I got down on to the maindeck, I went up to the Second, and gave it to him.  He answered me civilly enough, and then asked me what I had been doing to put the Old Man’s back up.