Halloa! what's the matter?"
"It's the skipper," said the boy, who had just run up; "he wants to see
you at once. He's dying."
He caught hold of the doctor by the sleeve; but Carson, in his most
professional manner, declined to be hurried. He went leisurely down the
companion-ladder, and met with a careless glance the concerned faces of
the mate and second officer.
"Come to the skipper at once," said the mate.
"Does he want to see me?" said the doctor, languidly, as he entered the
cabin.
The skipper was lying doubled up in his bunk, his face twisted with pain.
"Doctor," he panted, "give me something quick. There's the medicine-
chest."
"Do you want some food, sir?" inquired the other, respectfully.
"Food be damned!" said the sufferer. "I want physic. There's the
medicine-chest." The doctor took it up and held it out to him. "I don't
want the lot," moaned the skipper.
"I want you to give me something for red-hot corkscrews in the inside."
"I beg your pardon," said the doctor, humbly; "I'm only the cook."
"If you--don't--prescribe for me at once," said the skipper, "I'll put
you in irons."
The doctor shook his head. "I shipped as cook," he said, slowly.
"Give me something, for Heaven's sake!" said the skipper, humbly.
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