But that notion did not last long. Powell, after repressing his first
impulse to spring for the companion and hammer at the captain's door,
took steps to have himself relieved by the boatswain. He was in a state
of distraction as to his feelings and yet lucid as to his mind. He
remained on the skylight so as to keep his eye on the tray.
Still the captain did not appear in the saloon. "If he had," said Mr.
Powell, "I knew what to do. I would have put my elbow through the pane
instantly--crash."
I asked him why?
"It was the quickest dodge for getting him away from that tray," he
explained. "My throat was so dry that I didn't know if I could shout
loud enough. And this was not a case for shouting, either."
The boatswain, sleepy and disgusted, arriving on the poop, found the
second officer doubled up over the end of the skylight in a pose which
might have been that of severe pain. And his voice was so changed that
the man, though naturally vexed at being turned out, made no comment on
the plea of sudden indisposition which young Powell put forward.
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