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Updated: April 30, 2025
Possibly these arrangements, such as they are, are the ones the dockers are trying to make with Lord Devonport now. The docker is trying to get through hungering for something to eat, to arrange gradually to have his hungers move on. All the virtues are hungers. A vice is the failure of desire.
David Ross, Peter Dale and Graveling occupied chairs on the platform. Between them, Julia and Aaron kept Maraton informed as to the identity of each newcomer. "That's Mr. Docker, who is going to speak now," the latter declared in an excited whisper. "He is a fighting man. It's he who has manoeuvred this strike, they say. Now he's off." Mr.
He says, 'What was the cause?" "Ay, the cause. Just obsairve, jintlemen," said Sampson, addressing imaginary students, "how startled they all are if a docker deviates from profissional habits into sceince, and takes the right eend of the stick for once b' asking for the cause." "The cause was the will of God, I do suppose," said Mrs. Maxley. "Stuff!" shouted Sampson angrily.
I was just climbing into the 'Stancomb Wills' when I saw the 'Dudley Docker' coming up astern under sail. The sight took a great load off my mind. Rowing carefully and avoiding the blind rollers which showed where sunken rocks lay, we brought the 'Stancomb Wills' towards the opening in the reef.
There were now four men up on the thwarts of the 'Dudley Docker', and the five sailors and Hussey on those of the 'Stancomb Wills', the remainder disposing themselves on the floor." The floor was at first covered with snow and ice, frozen in amongst the pebbles. This was cleared out, and the remainder of the tents spread out over the stones.
It was obvious she would have to go outside the pillar as she was making so much leeway, but I could not see what happened to her and I dared not pause. It was a bad time. At last, about 5 p.m., the 'James Caird' and the 'Stancomb Wills' reached comparatively calm water and we saw Wild's beach just ahead of us. I looked back vainly for the 'Dudley Docker'.
The man looked up and down the street, and then he put his 'ead near them and whispered. "Eh?" ses Sam's pal. "Something I picked up," ses the man, still a-whispering. Sam got a pinch on the arm from 'is pal that nearly made him scream, then they both stood still, staring at the docker. "Wot is it?" ses Sam, at last.
A line of reef stretched between the shore and this pillar, and I thought as we approached that we would have to face the raging sea outside; but a break in the white surf revealed a gap in the reef and we laboured through, with the wind driving clouds of spray on our port beam. The 'Stancomb Wills' followed safely. In the stinging spray I lost sight of the 'Dudley Docker' altogether.
The 'James Caird' was in the lead, with the 'Stancomb Wills' next and the 'Dudley Docker' bringing up the rear. In order to make the boats more seaworthy we had left some of our shovels, picks, and dried vegetables on the floe, and for a long time we could see the abandoned stores forming a dark spot on the ice. The boats were still heavily loaded.
I must also thank Mr. Dudley Docker, who enabled me to complete the purchase of the 'Endurance', and Miss Elizabeth Dawson Lambton, who since 1901 has always been a firm friend to Antarctic exploration, and who again, on this occasion, assisted largely.
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