"He couldn't have done better. When he'd finished I took charge,
hurried him below--my! the mess down there!--and got him into
somebody's dry clothes. All the time he was whimperin' and
shiverin'; and he whimpered and shivered still when I coaxed him into
his bunk and tucked him up in every rug I could find. There was a
bottle of whisky, pretty near empty, 'pon the table. Seein' how
wistful the poor chap looked at it, and mindin' how much whisky and
salt water he'd got rid of, I mixed the dregs of it with a little hot
water off the stove, and poured it into him. Then I filled up the
bottle with hot water, corked it hard, and slipped it down under the
blankets, to warm his feet.
"'That's all right, matey,' said he, his teeth chatterin' as I
snugged him down. 'But cut along and leave me afore the others
come.'
"Well, that was sense in its way, though he didn't seem to take
account that there was only one way back for me--the way I'd come.
"'You'll do, all right?' said I.
"'I'll do right enough now,' said he. 'You cut along.'
"So I left him. I was that chilled in my drippin' clothes, the
second swim did me more good than harm.
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