“‘Let pore old Dan try it first, sir,’ ses Harry, starting up, an’ sniffing as the mate took the cork out; ‘he’s been awful bad since you’ve been away.’
“‘Harry’s worse than I am, sir,’ ses Dan; ‘it’s only his kind heart that makes him say that.’
“‘It don’t matter which is fust,’ ses the mate, filling a tablespoon with it, ‘there’s plenty for all. Now, Harry.’
“‘Take it,’ ses the skipper.
“Harry took it, an’ the fuss he made you’d ha’ thought he was swallering a football. It stuck all round his mouth, and he carried on so dredful that the other invalids was half sick afore it came to them.
“By the time the other three ’ad ’ad theirs it was as good as a pantermime, an’ the mate corked the bottle up, and went an’ sat down on a locker while they tried to rinse their mouths out with the luxuries which had been given ’em.
“‘How do you feel?’ ses the skipper.
“‘I’m dying,’ ses Dan.
“‘So’m I,’ ses Harry; ‘I b’leeve the mate’s pisoned us.”
“The skipper looks over at the mate very stern an’ shakes his ’ed slowly.