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Updated: May 17, 2025
Through the shattering roar of the guns, the rendings of planks, the scream of round-shot, came the voices of men, dim-seen. Jokes, blasphemies, prayers, groans, issued in nightmare medley from that death-fog. "Chri', kill me! My God, I sweats! Pore old Jake's got it!" On mid-deck a shadow was pirouetting madly. Suddenly it collapsed; and the boy saw it ended at the neck.
At that moment Curlie did a strange thing, so strange that the words sounded preposterous to his own ears: "No," he said slowly, "I won't, unless unless he asks me to." "Oh!" she breathed, "thank you." She placed her icy-cold hand on his for a second. "You're freezing!" he exclaimed suddenly. "You'll be making yourself sick. You must get inside!" "I'll go to the lounging cabin in mid-deck.
One night, at the request of one of the ladies, he brought to the mid-deck five handsome silk gowns to be inspected by the tourists. He also brought his book of references written by people whom he had conducted. In this we read the dignified prose of preacher and college president, the practical remarks of business men, and the nonsensical lines of the rhymster.
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