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Who'd a thot the like o' her had got a whore's forehead? An' tokened at that tokened to a sailor-man by name o' Noy. Let'n come home, let'n come home an' call the devil as did it to his account. Let the Lard see to't so that man edn' 'lowed to flourish no more. I be tu auld an' broken for any sich task. 'For the hurt o' the darter o' my people I am hurt."
So the sailor-man got upon the raft again and paddled over to the Magic Isle, landing as close to the golden flower-pot as he could. They watched him walk across the land, put both arms around the flower-pot and lift it easily from its place. Then he carried it to the raft and set it down very gently.
What water hath commenced, the fire shall finish!" Almost upon the instant a sturdy figure broke from the bushes above Gatcombe Pill and hurried along the cliff towards the harbour. Deep-chested, full-throated, weather-stained, compacted of brawn and sinew, he looked the ruddy-faced, daring sailor-man, every inch of him.
He didn't always carve it the same way, so his friends never knew exactly what sort of an expression they would find on his face. But there was no mistaking him, because he was the only pumpkin-headed man alive in the Land of Oz. A one-legged sailor-man was a member of Ozma's council.
It is an old-time song; and when you hear it, whether on a reef of coral or a granite quay, you may feel assured that an old-time sailor-man is singing it, and that the old-time sailor-man is bemused.
"Longer'n that, Trot," said Cap'n Bill, but his voice was a little troubled and unsteady. "But if we stay here we're bound to starve in time," continued the girl, "while if we go into the dark hole " "Some things are more hard to face than starvation," said the sailor-man, gravely. "We don't know what's inside that dark hole: Trot, nor where it might lead us to."
We stopped there talking to the ancient sailor-man, hearing how the Clovelly fishermen go out with black nets by day in good weather, and at night with white ones, to "attract the fish." "That is trew, Miss," said he, when I laughed, thinking it a joke. I love the Devonshire way of saying "true," and other words that rhyme.
"Not nay, not for all Bartlemy's treasure!" "Aha!" quoth he softly. "So you've heard tell of it then, along the Spanish Main?" "I heard tell of it last night in a cave from a sailor-man." "How?" says he starting and with keen eyes glancing hither and thither. "A sailor-man hereabouts?" "Damme!" says I, "the country seems thick o' sailor-men." "Ha! D'ye say so? And what like was this one?"
She was going to marry a sailor-man, but he changed his mind, and she broke her heart and drowned herself that's all there is to it." "The damned rascal. I hope he got what he deserved." Mr. Best allowed his mind to peep from the shell that usually concealed it. "If he did, he was one man in a thousand. He married a Weymouth woman and Flossy went into the river in the deep pool beyond the works.
I don't remember any other." "Any sailor-man, then? It's mostly sailors that know about tattooin'." "Oh, yes," he answered promptly, to her surprise. "There were lots of sailors five or six, I think. They had long glasses, and used to watch the sea. And one played music on a thing that went so." He brought his hands together, drew them wide, and brought them together again the palms open.
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