"Come, come," said the doctor, cheerily--"what's this? You mustn't be
ill, Rogers. I want you to nurse these other two."

The other rose slowly to his feet and eyed him with lack-lustre eyes.
"Tell the third officer to take charge," he said, slowly; "and if he's to
he nurse as well, he's got his hands full."

The doctor sent the boy to apprise the third officer of his
responsibilities, and then stood watching the extraordinary and snakelike
convolutions of Mr. Mackenzie.

"How much--did--ye say?" hissed the latter.

"Poor people," repeated the doctor, with relish, "five shillings a visit;
very poor people, half a crown."

"I'll have half a crown's worth," moaned the miserable mate.

"Mr. Mackenzie," said a faint voice from the skipper's cabin.

"Sir?" yelled the mate, who was in torment.

"Don't answer me like that, sir," said the skipper, sharply. "Will you
please to remember that I'm ill, and can't bear that horrible noise
you're making?"

"I'm--ill--too," gasped the mate.

"Ill? Nonsense!" said the skipper, severely. "We can't both be ill.
How about the ship?"