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. "I'm
dying." The doctor pondered.

"If you dinna treat him at once, I'll break your skull," said the mate,
persuasively.

The doctor regarded him scornfully, and turned to the writhing skipper.

"My fee is half a guinea a visit," he said, softly; "five shillings if
you come to me."

"I'll have half a guinea's worth," said the agonized skipper.

The doctor took his wrist, and calmly drew the second officer's watch
from its owner's pocket. Then he inspected the sick man's tongue, and
shaking his head, selected a powder from the chest.

"You mustn't mind its being nasty," he said. "Where's a spoon?"

He looked round for one, but the skipper took the powder from his hand,
and licked it from the paper as though it had been sherbet.

"For mercy's sake don't say it's cholera," he gasped.

"I won't say anything," said the doctor. "Where did you say the money
was?"

The skipper pointed to his trousers, and Mr. Mackenzie, his national
spirit rising in hot rage, took out the agreed amount and handed it to
the physician.

"Am I in danger?" said the skipper.

"There's always danger," said the doctor, in his best bedside manner.
"Have you made your will?"

The other, turning pale, shook his head. "Perhaps you'd like to see a
solicitor?" said Carson, in winning tones.

"I'm not bad enough for that," said the skipper, stoutly.

"You must stay here and nurse the skipper, Mr. Mackenzie," said Carson,
turning to the mate; "and be good enough not to make that snuffling
noise; it's wor