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Updated: June 13, 2025
"About the most that you need, now, is to get into your clothes and take a few turns up and down the deck with a marine. The fresh air will brace you up all right. I shan't be surprised if the ippecac leaves you with an appetite after a while." "You infernal cheat, you!" roared Truax, starting to get out of the berth. But the hospital man thrust him back.
"Why, my man, I mean," grinned the naval surgeon, "that, when I was first called in to you, you were no more sick than I was. You were scared, first of all, by the remarks of others. Then, after we got you to bed in here, we dosed you with ippecac a few times. That started your stomach to moving up and down until you were convinced that you were a very sick man."
"What!" now roared Sam Truax, sitting up in the berth and staring angrily. "Oh, the ippecac was my own choice," nodded the doctor, "but the general idea was Mr. Benson's. My man, with a lad like him you haven't a one-in-ten chance." "So, to work a confession out of me, you've poisoned me?" gasped Sam Truax. "Oh, you're not very badly poisoned," laughed Doctor McCrea.
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