"Oh, can't I foller 'im?" said the cook, starting up. "I'll soon 'ave
'im out o' that."

"Better leave 'im alone," said Henshaw. "He was that wild we couldn't do
nothing with 'im, singing an' larfin' and crying all together--I
certainly thought he was p'isoned."

"I'll swear I ain't touched him," said the cook.

"Well, you've upset his reason," said Henshaw; "there'll be an awful row
when the skipper comes aboard and finds 'im in 'is bed.

"'Well, come an' 'elp me to get 'im out," said the cook.

"I ain't going to be mixed up in it," said Henshaw, shaking his head.

"Don't you, Bill," said the other two.

"Wot the skipper'll say I don't know," said Henshaw; "anyway, it'll be
said to you, not----"

"I'll go and get 'im out if 'e was five madmen," said the cook,
compressing his lips.

"You'll harve to carry 'im out, then," said Henshaw. "I don't wish you
no 'arm, cook, and perhaps it would be as well to get 'im out afore the
skipper or mate comes aboard. If it was me, I know what I should do."

"What?" inquired the cook, breathlessly.