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Updated: May 12, 2025
For the rest of that day we were all very quiet and restrained; pity for the dead man being mingled with a dread of taking the wheel when night came. "The wheel's haunted," said the cook, solemnly; "mark my words, there's more of you will be took the same way Dadd was." The cook, like myself, had no watch to keep.
"Look at him," whispered Bill, bending a contorted face to mine. I walked aft a few steps, and Bill followed slowly. Then I saw that Jem Dadd was leaning forward clumsily on the wheel, with his hands clenched on the spokes. "He's asleep," said I, stopping short. Bill breathed hard. "He's in a queer sleep," said he; "kind o' trance more like. Go closer."
Nothing seemed more natural than that she should marry again, and obviously that might come; yet the predecessors of Miss Dadd had been contemporaneous with a first husband, so that others formed in her image might be contemporaneous with a second.
Don't you know what he used to say about dying? It's Jem Dadd come back to us. Jem Dadd got another man's body, as he always said he would." "Rot!" said Roberts, trying to speak bravely, but he got up, and, with the others, huddled together at the end of the fo'c's'le, and stared in a bewildered fashion at the sodden face and short, squat figure of our visitor.
Not that the crew were particularly brutal, but a sound cuffing occasionally is held by most seamen to be beneficial to a lad's health and morals. The only really spiteful fellow among them was a man named Jem Dadd. He was a morose, sallow-looking man, of about forty, with a strong taste for the supernatural, and a stronger taste still for frightening his fellows with it.
"He means his wife and younkers!" he shouted eagerly. "This ain't no Jem Dadd!" It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying sailor, and strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the finger business, nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different heights from the floor.
"He means his wife and younkers!" he shouted eagerly. "This ain't no Jem Dadd!" It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying sailor, and strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the finger business, nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different heights from the floor.
Marshall, the painter, is represented by an old lady picking a goose. "I like that picture," said Sir Robert, "because the face is the nearest resemblance to my old mother I ever saw. There's a couple of curious sea pieces," pointing to a pair of pictures done on two pieces of rough deal board "Storm" and "Calm." "They were painted by Richard Dadd, the mad artist.
Not that the crew were particularly brutal, but a sound cuffing occasionally is held by most seamen to be beneficial to a lad's health and morals. The only really spiteful fellow among them was a man named Jem Dadd. He was a morose, sallow-looking man, of about forty, with a strong taste for the supernatural, and a stronger taste still for frightening his fellows with it.
He was a firm believer in the transmigration of souls, some idea of which he had, no doubt, picked up in Eastern ports, and gave his shivering auditors to understand that his arrangements for his own immediate future were already perfected. We were six or seven days out when a strange thing happened. Dadd had the second watch one night, and Bill was to relieve him.
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