I could not collect my thoughts. Clutching the woodwork of the galley for support,- and I confess the grease with which it was scummed put my teeth on edge,- I reached across a hot cooking-range to the offending utensil, unhooked it, and wedged it securely into the coal-box.
? ? ? ? The cook grinned at my exhibition of nerves, and thrust into my hand a steaming mug with an ''Ere, this'll do yer good.'
? ? ? ? It was a nauseous mess,- ship's coffee,- but the heat of it was revivifying. Between gulps of the molten stuff I glanced down at my raw and bleeding chest and turned to the Scandinavian.
? ? ? ? 'Thank you, Mr. Yonson,' I said; 'but don't you think your measures were rather heroic?'
? ? ? ? It was because he understood the reproof of my action, rather than of my words, that he held up his palm for inspection. It was remarkably calloused. I passed my hand over the horny projections, and my teeth went on edge once more from the horrible rasping sensation produced.
? ? ? ? 'My name is Johnson, not Yonson,' he said in very good, though slow, English, with no more than a shade of accent to it.
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