"Take care that you don't break it, Mr Simple." "Oh, then, I'm all right," thought I; "he means the tumbler." So down I went, called up the gunroom steward, and desired him to give me a glass of grog for Mr Doball.

The steward tumbled out in his shirt, mixed the grog, and gave it to me, and I carried it up very carefully to the quarter-deck.
During my absence, the master had called the captain, and in pursuance of his orders, O'Brien had called the first lieutenant, and when I came up the ladder, they were both on deck.

As I was ascending, I heard the master say, "I have sent young Simple down for my night-glass, but he is so long, that I suppose he has made some mistake.

He's but half a fool." "That I deny," replied Mr Falcon, the first lieutenant, just as I put my foot on the quarter-deck; "he's no fool." "Perhaps not," replied the master.

"Oh, here he is.