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Updated: May 26, 2025
"I tell 'ee wot it is, Nelly Blyth," said the man, in a somewhat stern tone of voice; "it won't suit me to dilly-dally in this here fashion any longer. You've kept me hanging off and on until I have lost my chance of gettin' to be mate of a Noocastle collier; an' here I am now, with nothin' to do, yawin' about like a Dutchman in a heavy swell, an' feelin' ashamed of myself."
When master and mate were alone together in the cabin, each read to the other his letter. My reason for writing just now is to tell you about that dear sweet creature, Miss Ruth Dotropy. But women's minds will run on ribbons an' suchlike. Well, after yawin' about for a bit, she comes back to the pint, an' steers a straight course again.
I turned in there an' then, to young Bannister's bunk, an' slept past expression. I waukened ragin' wi' hunger, a fair lump o' sea runnin', the Kite snorin' awa' four knots an hour; an' the Grotkau slappin' her nose under, an' yawin' an' standin' over at discretion. She was a most disgracefu' tow. But the shameful thing of all was the food.
"That hand of his would have made him useless before another day was out. It's a long time for a man in his state to be without help, that run up to Lun'on. Port your helm a bit, Jay. Is it the Cormorant that's yawin' about there in that fashion?" "Ay, it's the Cormorant," replied Jay. "I seed her just now a'most run foul o' the Butterfly." "She'll be foul of us. Hi!
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