"What's wrong?" asked Plump, as soon as he found that he was being waked three hours before his time. "You're as white as putty, Dodman."
Dodman shook his head and could hardly speak. When he did speak, Plump fell back upon his pillow and gasped.
"Brogger ain't dead," said Dodman. "Mr. Plump, Brogger's on board."
"You're mad!" cried Plump.
"I wish I was," said Dodman. "This is a Portland plant—this is a coast game. They shaved him and browned him and drugged him, and he came aboard at Astoria as a foremast hand!"
There was a deep silence for at least five minutes, and then Plump said, almost with a wail—
"This is most disappointing!"
There was a strange look in Dodman's face; it was so strange that Plump sat up and looked at him.
"Between you and me, sir," said Dodman, "he used to make both of us uncomfortable."
"He did," said Plump.
"And he was no seaman."
