“‘It was not nightmare, sir,’ ses the cap’n, very huffy, ’an if I hear it again, I ‘m going to alter this ship’s course.’

“Well, the fust mate was in a hole.  He wanted to call the skipper something which he knew wasn’t discipline.  I knew what it was, an’ I knew if the mate didn’t do something he’d be ill, he was that sort of man, everything flew to his head.  He walked away, and put his head over the side for a bit, an’ at last, when he came back, he was, comparatively speaking, calm.

“‘You mustn’t hear them words again, sir,’ ses he; ’don’t go to sleep again to-night.  Stay up, an’ we’ll have a hand o’ cards, and in the morning you take a good stiff dose o’ rhoobarb.  Don’t spoil one o’ the best trips we’ve ever had for the sake of a pennyworth of rhoobarb,’ ses he, pleading-like.

“‘Mr. Salmon,’ ses the cap’n, very angry, ’I shall not fly in the face o’ Providence in any such way.  I shall sleep as usual, an’ as for your rhoobarb,’ ses the cap’n, working hisself up into a passion—­’damme, sir, I’ll—­I’ll dose the whole crew with it, from first mate to cabin-boy, if I have any impertinence.’

“Well, Mr. Salmon, who was getting very mad, stalks down below, followed by the cap’n, an’ Mr. McMillan was that excited that he even started talking to me about it.  Half-an-hour arterwards the cap’n comes running up on deck again.

“‘Mr. McMillan,’ ses he excitedly, ’steer nor’-nor’-west until further orders.  I’ve heard it again, an’ this time it nearly split the drum of my ear.’

“The ship’s course was altered, an’ after the old man was satisfied he went back to bed again, an’ almost directly arter eight bells went, an’ I was relieved.  I wasn’t on deck when the fust mate come up, but those that were said he took it very calm.  He didn’t say a word.  He just sat down on the poop, and blew his cheeks out.

“As soon as ever it was daylight the skipper was on deck with his glasses.  He sent men up to the masthead to keep a good look-out, an’ he was dancing about like a cat on hot bricks all the morning.

“‘How long are we to go on this course, sir?’ asks Mr. Salmon, about ten o’clock in the morning.

“‘I’ve not made up my mind, sir,’ ses the cap’n, very stately; but I could see he was looking a trifle foolish.

“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—­