"He's very sick, sir," he asserted, tugging a little at the chain
in the hope of producing instant proof of his contention. But the
dog was gamiest of the game, and swallowed hurriedly.
"Well? I'm not a vet. What about it?"
"The whole ship's crew 'ud be sorry, sir, if 'e was to lose 'is number.
He's the best mascot this ship ever had, by all accounts."
"He hasn't brought us much luck this run!" smiled Applewaite, remembering
a long list of "previous convictions" and wondering what Crothers might
be up to next.
"No, sir? We're still a-top o' the water, sir."
"Oh! He gets the credit for that, eh? But for him, I suppose we'd
have piled up on the reef yesterday?"
"Saving your presence, sir."
Curley Crothers made a gesture expressive of a world of compliment
and praise, but he kept one eye steadily on the dog; he seemed to
imply that but for the presence of the dog on board the commander
might have forgotten his seamanship.
"Well? What do you suggest?"
"Seeing the poor dog's sick, sir, and you and all of us so fond of
him, and all he needs is exercise, I thought perhaps as 'ow you'd
order me an' Byng, sir, to take 'im for a run ashore.
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