"Very well," replied the master; "Mr O'Brien--where's Mr O'Brien?"
"Is it me you mane, sir?" said O'Brien, walking up to the master, for he
had sat down so long in the topsail-halyard rack, that he was wedged in
and could not get out immediately.
"Yes, sir; go forward, and see what that vessel is."
"Aye, aye, sir," said O'Brien. "And Mr Simple," continued the master,
"go down and bring me up my night-glass."
"Yes, sir," replied I. I had no idea of a night-glass; and as I observed
that about this time his servant brought him up a glass of grog, I
thought it very lucky that I knew what he meant. "Take care that you
don't break it, Mr Simple." "Oh, then, I'm all right," thought I; "he
means the tumbler." So down I went, called up the gunroom steward, and
desired him to give me a glass of grog for Mr Doball. The steward
tumbled out in his shirt, mixed the grog, and gave it to me, and I
carried it up very carefully to the quarter-deck.
During my absence, the master had called the captain, and in pursuance
of his orders, O'Brien had called the first lieutenant, and when I came
up the ladder, they were both on deck. As I was ascending, I heard the
master say, "I have sent young Simple down for my night-glass, but he is
so long, that I suppose he has made some mistake. He's but half a fool."
"That I deny," replied Mr Falcon, the first lieutenant, just as I put my
foot on the quarter-deck; "he's no fool." "Perhaps not," replied the
master. "Oh, here he is.
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