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Updated: June 11, 2025
Devil of a fine joke we'll make of it for him, if he does come out and thinks we're still cooped up in the fo'c'sle." We set about the work of getting ready to leave the ship, keeping to the starboard side, which was low in the water and away from the island.
Them Incas ate gold; they're buried in it." "'Ave you know zem, ze Incas?" he asked eagerly. "I seen a tomb of theirs once," said the sailor; "it were in a cove, like the fo'c'sle yonder, and full of knittin'-needles." "What is zem?" said the Frenchman. The sailor shambled below to his chest, and returned with a handful of little sticks round which some balls of coloured threads were bound.
I 'eard all o' wot 'appened, and I tells all my pals. The chief buffer does the same, and so does Number One, so at six bells, when the sick bay stooard 'ad bin sent by Jimmy the One to tell the doctor as 'ow the buoys wus ready for bleedin', almost all the orficers and abart 'arf the ship's company 'ad mustered artside the sick bay under the fo'c'sle to see wot 'appened.
He waited a minute or two, then noticed one of the sailors busy on deck. "What are you doing there, Scotty?" he called out. "Putting a buoy on the line, sir; she's our whale." "Looks to me more as though the whale had us, than we had the whale," the captain said grimly. "Are you all ready?" he added as the men came up from the fo'c'sle in oilskins and mittens. "No, there's only fifteen of you!"
She also knew, having made it her business to find out, that in fifteen minutes, or less, the crew would muster in the fo'c'sle for their mid-day meal. Not having heard a word of Hozier's free speech to the gentlemen of various nationalities at the bottom of the hold, she wondered why he was blushing. "Shall I show you the way?" asked Philip, finding his tongue. "No, thank you.
When the Merian was three days out from Portland the frightened cattleman stiff known as "Wrennie" wanted to die, for he was now sure that the smell of the fo'c'sle, in which he was lying on a thin mattress of straw covered with damp gunny-sacking, both could and would become daily a thicker smell, a stronger smell, a smell increasingly diverse and deadly.
"The fo'c'sle?" said the skipper, struggling between love and discipline. "Yes." The girl sighed, and the mate, who was listening at the skylight above, held his breath with anxiety. Miss Jewell sighed again and in an absent- minded fashion increased the distance between herself and companion by six inches. "It's usual," faltered the skipper. "Yes, of course," said the girl, coldly.
'There they was trying to cut one another's throats, and she calls it enjoyment. "He went off spluttering. I watched Liosha. A Dutchman what you would call a Swede a hulking beggar, came up from the fo'c'sle very much the worse for wear. Liosha says: "'Mr. Andrews was very angry, Petersen. "He grinned. 'He was, missus. "'What was it all about?
By no possible means could he have imagined a person sitting down to invent in cold blood for the amusement of others a yarn about what never happened; no, it would have struck him as one of those lying personal yarns heard in the fo'c'sle sometimes and likely to produce a boot aimed at the teller's head.
The barometer was down, and the sky to the east did not please him. He studied it with unceasing vigilance. "If she comes out of there," he said, "hard and snappy, putting us to windward of the boats, it's likely there'll be empty bunks in steerage and fo'c'sle." By eleven o'clock the sea had become glass. By midday, though we were well up in the northerly latitudes, the heat was sickening.
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