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A long, narrow bucket was attached to one end of this rope; the other end on deck was attended by two men. One unfortunate beggar was perched aloft on the above-mentioned spar, where his position, like the main-yard of Marryatt's verbose carpenter was "precarious and not at all permanent."
He had read Marryatt's novels and other sailor tales what boy has not? and he was fired with the usual childish desire to embark upon that wonderful life of chasing buccaneers, fighting pirates, capturing prizes, or hunting hidden treasure, which is a lad's brilliantly coloured fancy picture of an everyday sailor's wet, cold, cheerless occupation.
Oh, mother, did you ever read Marryatt's novels, and 'Sinbad the Sailor'?" "I have read 'Sinbad the Sailor, but you know that is a fairy story, my son." "It may be, but Marryatt's stories are not. It must be splendid to travel across the mighty ocean, and see foreign countries." "A sailor doesn't have the chance to see much. You have no idea of the hardships of his life."
Hastings' mind as to the matter of fires." "It will!" says Mrs. Chichester. "But why? If " says Margaret, leaning forward. "Because marriage improves women, and" Mrs. Chichester pauses, and lets her queer green eyes rest on Marryatt's "and does the other thing for men." Marryatt is looking back at her as if transfixed. He is thinking of her words rather than of her.
He had read Marryatt's novels and other sailor tales what boy has not? and he was fired with the usual childish desire to embark upon that wonderful life of chasing buccaneers, fighting pirates, capturing prizes, or hunting hidden treasure, which is a lad's brilliantly coloured fancy picture of an everyday sailor's wet, cold, cheerless occupation.
Pull off your boots," said he, "and if you open your fool head to any living soul until I give you leave, py Gott I'll gill you!" It was Schreiber's way, like Marryatt's famous Boatswain, to begin his admonitions in exact English, and then, as wrath overcame him, to lapse into dialect.
He had abstained from reading fiction, doubting whether it was profitable, since the early days when with a thrill of boyish excitement he read "Sinbad the Sailor" and Marryatt's novels. After a while his views as to the utility of fiction changed.
Strange to say, his employer had a library, that is, he had a small collection of books, gathered by his daughter, prominent among which were Marryatt's novels, and "Sinbad the Sailor." They opened a new world to his young accountant, and gave him an intense desire to see the world, and especially to cross the great sea, even in the capacity of a sailor.
"I saw by his face," says one of Marryatt's heroes, "that the first lieutenant did not agree with the captain; but he was too good an officer to say so at such a moment." The phrase expresses one of the deepest-rooted merits of the English system, the want of which is owned by French writers:
He had not yet given up all thoughts of the sea, he had not forgotten the charms with which a sailor's life is invested in Marryatt's fascinating novels. His mother listened anxiously to his dreams of happiness on the sea, and strove to fix his mind upon higher things to inspire him with a nobler ambition. "What would you have me do, mother?" he asked.
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