the fact, with something of a gasp, to Captain Rik, who considerately told him never to mind.
"I can swim for both," he said, tying a piece of rope-yarn tight round his waist, for he had long before cast off coat, vest, and braces; "but you ought to be ashamed of yourself, a man come to your time o' life, an' not able to swim!"
"But I never lived near the sea, and had no one to teach me," pleaded Ebenezer in a tremblingly apologetic voice, for the roar of united wind, waves, and thunder was really tremendous even to those who could swim.
"What o' that?" returned Captain Rik, sternly. "Was there no river or pond nigh? Even a horse-trough or a washing-tub would have sufficed to make a man of you. As for teaching—what teaching did you want? Swimmin' ain't Latin or Greek! It ain't even mathematics—only aquatics. All the brute beasts swim—even donkeys swim without teaching. Boh! bah! There, lay hold o' me—so. Now, mind, if you try to take me round the neck with your two arms I 'll plant my fist on the bridge of your nose, an' let you go to Davy Jones's locker."
A flash of lightning revealed Captain Rik's face in such a way that Ebenezer Smith resolved to obey him to the letter.
It was at this point of their conversation that the Gleam went down—or out—and they sank with a
