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Updated: May 17, 2025
Did it happen that you heard Caruso and Blanche Arral this winter in New York, Mr. Pathurst?" I nodded, still marvelling over this spate of speech at table. "Well, think of hearing them, and Homer, and Witherspoon, and Amato, every night for nights and nights at the Metropolitan; and then to give it the go-by, and get to sea and shake down to watch and watch." "You don't like the sea?" I queried.
"That is one thing, Mr. Pathurst, I always sleep like a baby . . . which means a good conscience, sir, yes, a good conscience." And while he enunciated the platitude I was uncomfortably aware that that alien thing inside his skull was watching me, studying me. In the cabin Captain West smoked a cigar and read the Bible.
Pike to set the mizzen-topgallant?" And at that very instant Mr. Pike's voice rang out from the break of the poop: "Mr. Mellaire! the mizzen-topgallant!" Captain West's head drooped until his chin rested on his breast, and so low did he mutter that I leaned to hear. "A very good officer," he said. "An excellent officer. Mr. Pathurst, if you will kindly favour me, I should like to go in.
"And this is the young woman who is guilty of the delay," he concluded my introduction to his daughter. "Margaret, this is Mr. Pathurst." Her gloved hand promptly emerged from the fox-skins to meet mine, and I found myself looking into a pair of gray eyes bent steadily and gravely upon me. It was discomfiting, that cool, penetrating, searching gaze.
Why, in my day we grew fat on work like that only we didn't; we worked so hard there wasn't any chance for fat. We kept in fighting trim, that was all. But as for this scum and slum say, you remember, Mr. Pathurst, that man I spoke to the first day, who said his name was Charles Davis?" "The one you thought there was something the matter with?" "Yes, and there was, too.
When he referred to the man as the Maltese Cockney, and I asked why, he replied: "First, because he is Maltese, Mr. Pathurst; and next, because he talks Cockney like a native. And depend upon it, he heard Bow Bells before he lisped his first word." "And has O'Sullivan bought Andy Fay's sea-boots yet?" I queried. It was at this moment that Miss West emerged upon the poop.
I am fifty-four, now, on the articles." "And you don't look a day older," I answered lightly, though I meant it in all sincerity. "And I don't feel it. I can outwork and outgame the huskiest of the younglings. And don't let my age get to anybody's ears, Mr. Pathurst. Skippers are not particular for mates getting around the seventy mark. And owners neither.
"Anywhere from right against the body up to ten or twelve feet away, holding for the stomach, it's astonishing, Mr. Pathurst, what you can do with a weapon like this. Now you can't use a rifle in a mix-up. I've been down and under, with a bunch giving me the boot, when I turned loose with this. Talk about damage! It ranged them the full length of their bodies.
I have been reading up the South Atlantic Sailing Directions, and I find that we are now entering the most beautiful sunset region in the world. And this evening we were favoured with a sample. I was in my quarters, overhauling my books, when Miss West called to me from the foot of the chart-house stairs: "Mr. Pathurst! Come quick! Oh, do come quick! You can't afford to miss it!"
She looked at me for a moment, her gray eyes serious and scrutinizing, as she passed me my cup; then laughter welled up in her eyes, and she shook her head reprovingly. "Now please don't begin the voyage by being shocked, Mr. Pathurst. Such things are very ordinary occurrences. You'll get used to them. You must remember some queer creatures go down to the sea in ships. The man is safe. Trust Mr.
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