some little time before Henry was really warm. But presently he became more than warm. He grew hot. Then beads of perspiration broke out on his body, and presently he was sweating profusely. Meantime the ship’s surgeon had come into the fireroom and examined his pulse, listened to his heart beat, and given him some sort of a dose. Then the doctor led the way up to the deck and along to the after companionway and so down to the captain’s cabin.
“Well, how are you feeling?” asked the captain, as Henry and the surgeon entered the cabin, after knocking at the door.
“First rate,” laughed Henry, “but about as hot as a furnace itself.”
The captain chuckled. “That’s good news,” he said, “eh, Doctor?”
“The very best,” said the surgeon. “He’s all right, Captain. I think his ducking will not hurt him a bit. He shows no sign of chill or shock or any bad after-effect.”
“Very good, indeed. But keep your eye on him, Doctor. Now that we have got him, we don’t want to lose him.”
The surgeon withdrew, leaving the captain and Henry alone in the little cabin.
“Tell me, my boy,” said the captain, with great kindness, “how in the world you ever got overboard. And, by the way, what happened