'Is it one of the crew?' he asked.

'I believe him to be a fireman,' I replied.

I dare say officers are much annoyed by complaints and alarmist
information from their freight of human creatures; but certainly,
whether it was the idea that the sick man was one of the crew, or
from something conciliatory in my address, the officer in question
was immediately relieved and mollified; and speaking in a voice
much freer from constraint, advised me to find a steward and
despatch him in quest of the doctor, who would now be in the
smoking-room over his pipe.

One of the stewards was often enough to be found about this hour
down our companion, Steerage No. 2 and 3; that was his smoking-room
of a night. Let me call him Blackwood. O'Reilly and I rattled
down the companion, breathing hurry; and in his shirt-sleeves and
perched across the carpenters bench upon one thigh, found
Blackwood; a neat, bright, dapper, Glasgow-looking man, with a bead
of an eye and a rank twang in his speech. I forget who was with
him, but the pair were enjoying a deliberate talk over their pipes.
I dare say he was tired with his day's work, and eminently
comfortable at that moment; and the truth is, I did not stop to
consider his feelings, but told my story in a breath.

'Steward,' said I, 'there's a man lying bad with cramp, and I can't
find the doctor.'

He turned upon me as pert as a sparrow, but with a black look that
is the prerogative of man; and taking his pipe out of his mouth -