“CAPTAIN” BROWN
For a moment Frank stood speechless with that deadly chill creeping
round his young heart, and his bowels all awork with dread and
sympathy. But with a rush there came to him the full sense of his
responsibility, the pressing need for immediate action, and the fact
that he had now no one upon whom to lean. It was then that, for the
first time in his life that he ever remembered, he murmured, removing
his cap, “God help me!” Then, released at once from the numbness
that the touch of the corpse had brought upon him, he bounded up the
companion to the deck, shouting, “All hands shorten sail.”
It was a tremendous task for the handful of men, but each one was good
and earnest in his work, and besides, the careful way in which the
“spilling” or gathering-up gear of the sails had been arranged was an
immense aid to them. So furious was the struggle that the warriors had
no time to observe the absence of the skipper, and even Frank, although
conscious of a curious dull pain at the heart, was far too busily
employed both in mind and body to dwell upon his immense loss.
At last the ship was snugged down to two lower topsails, a reefed
foresail, lower staysails and spanker, under which easy canvas she was
still making good progress. Then Frank called all hands aft and made
his first speech.
“I hardly know how to speak to you,” he said, “but I’ve got to. When I
went down to call Mr. Jacks at eight bells I found him dead.” Here he
broke down, and burst into a perfect flood of passionate tears. The men
gazed at him sympathetically and silently, so he recovered himself very
rapidly, almost immediately in fact. He resumed: “I can navigate the
ship all right, I know, and handle her too, but I’m only a boy, and I
want all the help you can give me. We’ve got another fortnight before
us yet, I’m afraid, before we can possibly get home, and I want you, if
you will, to try and forget my age and do just as you’ve been doing all
along. And if one of you can keep a watch I hope you will take it on,
because I must have some sleep.”
Then up spoke Mac, the man who had shown such signs of resentment at
the beginning of this curious passage, and said: “Look here, Frank, not
one of us will give ye any bother. If one does, the rest of us will
trouble him properly. And for a mate you’d better have Scotty here.
None of us are much of a hand at what you want, but he’s the best;
don’t you think so, boys?”
There was universal assent to this; and Scotty, as sheepishly as if he
had been nominated before a vast crowd, slouched forward and said: “A’
richt. I’ll keep the first watch, then, so as to let Frank go below and
get some sleep. It was my watch below, but that doesn’t matter now;
I’ll stick it. Relieve the wheel, and I’ll go and get some canvas, and
be sewing him below there into his last suit, puir fallow.”
And with this they dispersed, Frank merely asking Scotty to call him if
there was anything wanted, and remembering with a sharp pang how short
a time ago it was since that cold body down there had said those words
to him, and how grateful he had been to know that there was a strong
man to fall back upon. But he was young and weary; and so, in spite of
the tremendous burden that had been thrown upon him, in five minutes he
was fast asleep.
So fast, indeed, that when Scotty called him two hours after, he could
hardly believe that he had more than just closed his eyes. But he
sprang up and washed his face, coming on deck to find the ship still
plunging gallantly forward under the same canvas and with about the
same weight of wind. The stern, drab day had broken, the cold light
fell upon the torn and troubled sea, making it look grim and cruel and
ravenous; while the buffeted ship doggedly held her way through those
fierce masses of foaming water, as some men from whom all hope has
departed still battle on by some sort of striving instinct against the
waves of misfortune that continuously thunder on against them.
There at the gangway lay an oblong white parcel neatly stitched up in
canvas, the sight of which made Frank’s young heart grow cold as if
an icy hand had grasped it. And then the merciful reaction came, and
the relief sometimes afforded to men of great minds, and so frequently
to weaklings and women. His whole frame shook as if with ague, and hot
tears forced their way through the fingers tightly pressed to his face.
That storm passed rapidly over him, and lifting his head bravely he
said: “Scotty, will you call the other fellows aft, and we’ll put
the body overside. I don’t know the service, and I haven’t got a
Prayer-book, but I’ll say the only prayer I know.”
So they came, the little crowd, and stood around Scotty and Mac,
balancing the remains on the rail, while Frank, kneeling on the
soddened deck, repeated, with feelings I dare not attempt to describe,
the beautiful “Our Father.” As he rose to his feet Scotty and Mac,
looking at one another fixedly, launched the body overboard, and the
splash, plainly audible to them all above the bruit of the storm, acted
like the release of an intolerable tension, a relief that was grateful
beyond their simple powers of expression, so not mentioned at all.
They came back to their labours almost with a bound, having buried
their dead out of their sight. And it was well, for the gale
immediately began to take off, and it was necessary to set sail rapidly
in order to keep the _Woden_ steady in that great sea. As it was she
tumbled about so horribly that several old leaks opened, and gave
them much severe labour at the pumps, in addition to their exhausting
work of making sail with such a crew. But it was really beautiful to
see how the rough, toil-hardened, and ignorant men gave Frank their
entirely loving and loyal support, never once alluding to his youth or
inexperience, but obeying his lightest wish with cheerful alacrity.
Nor did they in any way resent the sudden rise of Scotty to the lofty
position of second in command, except by way of a joke, and even then
only while Frank was absent.
The result of this tacit recognition of Frank’s abilities and fitness
to command was that he acquired a gravity of demeanour and a steadiness
of eye which made him look ten years older, while at the same time,
to his secret delight and amusement, he noticed that he was growing
a beard, and all boys will realise how gratifying that was to him.
It saved him also from becoming too staid, of losing altogether that
boyish delight in life which is so beautiful to see in youngsters who
are in their work-time tremendously in earnest, and is, to me at any
rate, so painful to miss in young men who reserve all their energies
for play, and all ability to shirk for their duty.
The work of the ship, apart from the handling of the sails, steering,
and pumping, was purposely reduced to the vanishing-point almost,
except what was voluntarily undertaken by the men in the way of
keeping the vessel clean. And as the good breeze that grew out of the
gale carried them north as far as the Azores without ever rising to
the force of a gale, they had a fairly easy time of it but for the
pumping, twenty minutes of which were now required every two hours to
keep the vessel free of water. At this Frank took his full share at his
own urgent wish, the men having protested against his doing so, and he
insisting that the energetic work was necessary to his well-being, and
for the sake of exercise.
Which was undoubtedly a fact, for nothing can or could be more
debilitating to a young man, or any man for the matter of that, than to
eat well, and perform mental toil, and have no physical exercise. And
Frank’s mental toil was severe. He knew theoretically and practically
how to navigate a ship; but if and when he made a mistake in his
calculations on board the _Sealark_ it did not matter in the least, for
the responsibility was somebody’s else’s. But now, and this I consider
more important still, he had no one to check his work, so that, work as
carefully as he would, he could not feel that confidence in his figures
that brings an easy mind. Finally, it must be remembered that he was
not absolutely certain of the correctness of his chronometer.
So that we must sympathise with him if, when looking upon the vast
expanse of trackless ocean, he sometimes felt a youthful thrill of
apprehension lest he should have failed in the correctness of his
working. But relief was near, a relief that amounted to a positive
triumph, and one which remained with him in pleasant memory all his
life. The wind had gradually hauled round to the westward, and so
gradually put on strength until the _Woden_ was racing along at a good
thirteen knots an hour, to the unbounded joy of everybody on board.
One day, by Frank’s most careful calculations, it appeared that, with
the wind holding good, on the present course they should sight Corvo,
the most westerly of the Azores, soon after daybreak in the morning.
He mentioned the fact to Scotty immediately the sights were worked
up at noon; and that genial soul, looking, as men of his stamp will,
almost awestricken at the chart, said, “Ay, we’re haein’ a grand run.”
Had he made the least demur or questioned the correctness of Frank’s
calculations he would have given the dear boy a good deal of pain. But
such a thing never occurred to him. He accepted those lines upon the
chart as if they were the lines of fate laid down by unerring wisdom,
which was of course flattering to Frank, who could not however help
wishing that he had some one capable of criticising. But he preserved a
nonchalant demeanour over his real anxiety, and waited as patiently as
might be for the coming dawn.
Before light he was aloft on the fore-topsail yard straining his eyes
ahead for the sight of his first land-fall. It was a grey, overcast,
and stormy morning, the kind of weather when land is most difficult to
pick up, but happily just as the sun rose there was a temporary break
in the clouds around him, and there loomed up in grim majesty the
mighty rock of Corvo, precisely at the time when and in the quarter
where Frank expected and hoped to see it. The clouds sped over it
again almost instantly, but the vision vouchsafed was sufficient. A
great wave of satisfying certainty, of exultation in his work and pride
in his undoubted powers, swept over Frank, making him completely happy.
And with a firm step and erect bearing he descended and walked aft,
feeling every inch a man.
When Scotty came on deck at seven bells, the island was very plainly
in sight from the deck, in spite of the unpleasant weather, but Frank
could not somehow help feeling a little disappointed that Scotty did
not make a little fuss over this (to Frank) stupendous event. Yet had
he known it, Scotty’s taking the occurrence quite as a matter of course
was far and away the highest compliment that he could pay. It really
showed that as far as he was concerned Frank was as much to be depended
upon as any officer could be, the fact of his youth being entirely lost
sight of in consequence of his ability.
Then the sun came out, and Frank got some good sights for his
chronometer, which he carefully verified by bearings of the land,
finding to his delight that it had kept a good rate, and was
substantially correct. Later at noon, when he got a good meridian
altitude, he took a fine bearing for departure, and set his course
direct for Falmouth. He did everything, of course, as usual, with the
greatest care, but with a newly-acquired confidence that amazed him
when he hazily thought about it. But he was now to be very severely
tried indeed. A strong westerly gale set in, before which the _Woden_
dashed along under almost all the canvas she could spread, and it
brought with it a great increase in the gloom of the weather, so that
all Frank’s anxious watching failed to get him a sight of the sun or
stars either; not that he would have been able to do much with the
latter, having had no practice at either finding them or taking their
altitudes, although he could work the problems.
So he was fain to depend upon his dead reckoning, or position by
account, and, as the fleeting vessel surged along before the wild
howling of the gale at what was for her a tremendous speed, all hands
became increasingly anxious. For this is a point that sailors of every
grade fully appreciate, the danger of being unable, from the veiling of
the heavenly bodies, to get an accurate position when nearing the land,
especially in a sailing ship when running before a gale.
No relief came, and the universal anxiety increased, until, on the
fourth day from Corvo, Frank felt that he could bear the strain no
longer, and, calling all hands, proceeded to shorten sail down to
the two lower topsails and fore-topmast staysail. That successfully
accomplished by dint of three hours’ tremendous labour, the _Woden_ was
brought to the wind, and a cast of the deep-sea lead was taken. The
result was sixty-five fathoms of water, and the “arming,” or tallow
jammed into the hole at the bottom of the lead, brought up grey sand
and broken shells. It was good enough to keep her away again to her
original course, for it coincided with the soundings and bottom given
on the chart. So they put the helm up again and away she went at a
greatly reduced rate.
And all through the hours of darkness the young commander remained on
deck full of the most pressing anxiety, yet consoled by the knowledge
that he had done his very best. At every change of watch they went
through the terrible toil, under this short-handed condition, of
heaving the ship to in order to get soundings, a proceeding which made
the men curse bitterly the necessity, although they took care that
Frank should not hear them.
When morning broke, Frank’s eyes felt as if they were burning out of
his head with incessant staring through the darkness, and he was weary
beyond words. But all his weariness and pain fell from him like a shed
garment at the sight of a small vessel, a boat, in fact, under two
shreds of canvas, apparently making straight for the ship. He had her
immediately hove to in order to await the coming of the stranger, who
proved to be a no more romantic messenger than a Falmouth tailor, one
of those enterprising tradesmen who hover off the harbour, and as far
west as Scilly sometimes, in the hope of getting a substantial order
from the sailors of a ship coming into Falmouth for instructions where
to proceed with her cargo.
The skipper of this small craft gladdened Frank’s heart by telling him
just where he would find the pilot-boat, a position only a few miles
away. Again the heavily-burdened boy felt refreshed, relieved, and
grateful as he kept his ship away on almost the same course which he
had been previously steering. And then, as a sort of crowning mercy,
the beautiful shores of Cornwall suddenly became visible through a huge
lifting of the massy clouds. For the life of him Frank could not help
lifting his cap, and muttering with a lump in his throat, “Thank God.”
There lay the pilot-boat calmly awaiting him, and soon he felt that the
terrible weight of responsibility, which was making an old man of him
long before his time, would be lifted. When near enough, he hove to,
and the pilot came on board. His astonishment at discovering the state
of affairs I shall not attempt to depict, but as soon as he had got
over it he did his utmost to persuade Frank to come into Falmouth, and
await instructions from London before proceeding any farther. In this
difficult position Frank took what I consider to be the very wise step
of consulting his crew as to their views on the matter. To his surprise
and secret gratification they unanimously decided to go on to London.
After that it was vain for the pilot to coax, threaten, or bluster, all
Frank would do was to insist upon getting a Channel pilot (a suggestion
from Scotty), and the rest he and his crew were prepared to risk. After
long consultation the pilot admitted that he was not qualified to take
the ship up Channel to London, but promised to get a man out of the
cutter. In about half-an-hour the other man was on board, a grizzled
old sea-dog who looked at Frank with that cruel contempt that the old
school always used to exhibit towards the rising generation. Frank,
though nettled, preserved his courteous behaviour until the vessel was
once more speeding up Channel with additional sail set.
Then when the little bustle was over, he approached the pilot, and
said, “Do you take the ship right up to London or only to the Trinity
pilot at Dungeness?”
To this the pilot replied with a deep note in his voice, “You needn’t
trouble your head about that, I’m in charge now, and I shall do just
what I think is best for the benefit of the owners and underwriters.
And understand, I want no interference from you.”
Frank turned round immediately and hailed Scotty, who was smoking the
pipe of peace in front of the cabin. “Scotty,” he said, “the pilot has
informed me that I am not to interfere with anything connected with the
ship, that he has all the control now. What do you think of that?”
Scotty spat comprehensively over the side, took a fresh pull at his
pipe, and then drawled out, looking fixedly at the pilot meanwhile, “I
think he’s building on salvage, but he won’t get it. You’ve brought
the ship home, and engaged him as pilot. As long as he takes the ship
up nothing will happen, but if he comes any of his nonsense over you
or tries to rob us of any of what we have worked so hard for, we’ll
talk to him. Mister Pilot, you keep a civil tongue in your head towards
our young skipper, one of the best that ever lived, and you’ll be all
right. If you don’t you’ll be in deep waters at once, now I tell you.
We’re not goin’ to have any bossing of him by you, understand that.”
The pilot, who had quite naturally scented a splendid job for himself
in this, was in a parlous state of surprise. He did not know what to
do, especially as he noticed that the rest of the crew had gathered
around with rather severe looks towards him. A moment’s hesitation
and then, being wise enough to appreciate the situation, he turned to
Frank and said, with a note of irony in his voice which he could not
suppress, “All right, sir, I can take you up to the Trinity pilot at
Dungeness, and we’ll leave the question of what I am to be paid to the
authorities in London.”
To which Frank, feeling highly indignant of course, but wisely curbing
his temper, replied, “Very well, pilot, I hope this breeze will hold,
so that your job will be an easy one. And now I’ll leave you in charge.
I’ve had an anxious time lately and want a good sleep.”
As Frank disappeared down the companion the baffled pilot muttered,
“Silly young ass, thinks he’s a man, I suppose, because he’s brought
the ship in from sea somehow. But I’d give a sovereign to know all
about this business.”
Then he turned and devoted his attention to the steering of the ship,
entirely unconscious of the utter injustice and shallowness of his
remarks. The egotism of many youths is unpretty, but the arrogance of
age and its refusal to recognise any merit in the young man is often
quite as pitiful and annoying a spectacle.
Below, in spite of his weariness, Frank set himself deliberately to
compose a long letter to his owners. He had sent them a long telegram
from Falmouth informing them of what had happened in as few words as
possible, but now he felt that he must give full detail, and he had
found it the hardest task he had undertaken yet. So engrossed did he
become, however, in his work that it was four bells before he had
finished it, and then realised that he was dead beat. So he stretched
himself out on the settee and slept like a log until he was awakened by
Scotty at daylight.
He sprang up, gave his hands and face a rinse, and ran on deck to find
the ship under all sail, the wind having taken off very much during the
night and the lightship off Selsea Bill, _The Owers_, only about five
miles off. There was also a tug (by all appearance) creeping steadily
up on the port quarter, and concerning her Scotty said quietly, “If
she speaks us, don’t you think you’d better take her? He’ll open his
mouth pretty wide, but, after all, it’d be a pity to spoil the ship for
ha’porth of tar, wouldn’t it?”
Frank replied as quietly, “Well, Scotty, if he comes up and asks for
a job I’ll agree to his price, but you do the talking; if he sees me,
and this old pilot man gets a-talking to him, they may hatch up some
devilment between ’em.”
Scotty was delighted, and went below at once to rig up a bit less like
an old tar-pot, as he put it, while Frank, coffee-cup in hand, walked
up to the pilot and said, “Good morning, pilot.”
“Good morning, sir,” replied the pilot; “the wind is dying away and
looks like getting into the east’ard. Don’t you think you had better
take steam if you can get it?”
To which Frank answered, “My mate and I have just been discussing the
matter, and we have agreed to take that tug that’s coming up if we can
get him on any sort of reasonable terms, but I must ask you not to
interfere. You will please remember that you are the pilot, and I, boy
as I am, am in command. I don’t say this to make a quarrel, but you
must admit that I have some cause of complaint over the way you treated
me yesterday.”
Poor old pilot, he was bursting with curiosity to know the ins and
outs of this mysterious case--an English crew of less than half the
usual number on board a Norwegian vessel, and in charge of a boy of
eighteen--but in his eagerness to take charge of things generally he
had spoiled all chance, he now plainly saw, of dipping into the rich
dish of salvage which he scented somewhere near.
While he mused thus Frank moved aft and, with Scotty by his side,
awaited the oncoming of the tug, which Scotty pronounced to be one of
the best of Watkin’s lot that had evidently had a long tow of some
ship as far as the Wight. Nearer and nearer she drew until she ranged
alongside, and the burly skipper on the bridge shouted, “Good morning,
sir, where are you bound?”
“London,” roared back Scotty, in his most important voice.
There was a prolonged pause, for the tug skipper was meditating many
things. Norwegians don’t take steam until they are driven to it, and
unless utterly disabled it is not to be imagined that any ship of that
flag would take steam to the westward of the Foreland anyhow. But
the tug was really bound to go up for coal--they often use this as
an argument, regardless of truth, but now it really was a fact--and
he felt that even a very low rate of towage was better than going up
empty-handed. So, while entirely unwilling to give himself away, he
knew it was of no use beginning a bluff here, as she was not an English
or an American ship. And he shouted back, “Do you want a cheap tow up,
captain?”
“What do you call cheap?” answered Scotty.
Another pause and weighing of probabilities, then loudly, defiantly
almost, “Forty pounds.”
Now Frank and Scotty had made up their minds to go to any price
that did not mean salvage, and so the extreme modesty of the demand
almost startled them. But they waited a little for form’s sake and a
mischievous wish to prolong the tantalising of the pilot, who would
have given his fee for ten minutes’ conversation with the tug captain.
At last Scotty lifted his head and roared back, “All right, skipper, if
you’ll lend your towline in the bargain.”
The skipper of the tug was so astonished that he nearly fell down. He
had figured on being bated at least fifteen pounds, but to be accorded
his first demand, and by a Norwegian too, almost made him faint. And
he felt that something must be queer, but as he could not tell what he
just nodded, “All right,” spoke down his tube and kicked ahead, the
heaving-line was flung, and in ten minutes the big string was passed
and secured, and the _Robert Bruce_, with the Norwegian barque _Woden_
in tow, was ready to be signalled at the first station as proceeding to
London.
The only work then necessary was the furling of all the sails, as the
wind was rapidly drawing ahead and falling light. After this heavy task
for the small crew was successfully achieved, they found themselves
gently rounded to under the land east of Dungeness, and when their
pilots were exchanged Frank signed the Channel pilot’s note with a
polite but unreciprocated farewell. Then away they sped again towards
their goal under the guidance of the new pilot, who was so genial and
so generally nice that Frank was tempted to tell him the story of their
adventurous voyage. He listened with gasping interest, and at the close
of it seized Frank’s hand, saying with tears in his eyes, “Young man,
if I had a son like you I’d be the proudest man in the world. I am an
old sailor, of course, and I can appreciate to the full the value of
your work. But how do you feel about it yourself?”
“Well,” stammered Frank, “I--I feel very glad of course that we’ve
got safe home, for I have been very anxious, because I had no one on
board to back me up or correct me if I made a mistake. But now it’s all
over I see that I haven’t done anything different from what I did in
the _Sealark_, except, as I say, I had to depend upon myself here. And
the men have been so jolly good, they have helped me so much, you can
hardly believe how kind and willing they have been, obeying my orders
as if I had been an elderly man. They are the best of men, especially
Scotty, and I do hope they’ll be well rewarded. But somehow I feel
unhappy to think that Mr. Jacks did not live to share the happiness of
to-day. It meant so much to him, for he intended to retire after this
voyage on his share of the salvage, and now he is dead before he could
get it, and I shall get a lot that I don’t really want.”
The old pilot turned away muttering, “Ah well, for once fortune has
struck the right man; he’ll go far and do much, I can see, if God
spares him.”
And so she dragged along at a clinking rate to Gravesend, where, to
Frank’s intense delight, there came off in the boat bringing the river
pilot, the owner of the old _Sealark_, Mr. ----. He seized Frank by the
arm and congratulated him most warmly on his wonderful achievement,
telling him that immediately after the arrival of the _Sealark_ in
New York a week before, he being advised by Captain Jenkins of the
adventure about which, when he had read the news, he had many doubts
and fears until he received the wire from Falmouth. He had brought with
him a budget of letters for Frank from home, and, after his greetings
were over, despatched the lad to his berth to read them, only waiting
long enough to be introduced to Scotty.
Must I say it? Yes, in spite of the fear of my hero being
misunderstood, I must set down that he scanned those dear letters
without any great amount of feeling, except that he was contentedly
glad to know that all was going well at home. Even the owner’s gracious
praise did not give him anything like the sense of exultation that he
felt over the finishing of his job for its own sake. Nor, I think,
would coldness or even blame have unduly depressed him, for the doing
of the thing well had been its own exceeding great reward. I have
several times met his like, all of them unhappily compelled to look
very keenly after the reward, because it was needful to their living.
That part of the business had never cost Frank a thought, so that he
was happiest of them all, inasmuch as the doing of the work well was
all he thought about.
Therefore he returned on deck in a very few minutes to find Mr. ----
and Scotty deep in conversation about him, which ceased immediately
he came up. The owner had engaged a couple of watermen to steer the
ship up, so that the small crew were free to get their few belongings
packed up and smoke placidly, none of the usual unbending of sails and
stopping-up of gear being indulged in. Frank and the owner paced the
deck discussing the voyage, which enabled the young man to indulge in
his unstinted, outspoken admiration of the _Sealark’s_ captain and
officers, praise which the owner heard with grave approval, glancing
now and then admiringly at the fresh, animated young face beside him.
Then Mr. ---- asked that the hands might be called aft. When they came
he invited them into the cabin, and said, “Now, men, will you take
a word of advice from a man who knows a good deal more of the world
than you do, and also who knows sailors pretty well? You will probably
have the biggest sum you have ever handled in your lives out of this
business, for I find that the vessel and cargo are insured for £20,000,
and that will probably work out, at salvage of two-thirds, at about
£350 apiece for each of you, if not more. Will you be wise and go
straight out of Sailor Town, living somewhere quietly and soberly until
you get it, and then putting it away carefully somewhere where you can
always lay your hands on it when you want it? I’m prepared to advance
you money now, in order to enable you to get away at once to some cheap
hotel out of Sailor Town, and I will see that you get your wages due up
to the time of leaving the _Sealark_ to-morrow.”
They all thanked him, and promised to do as he said. So he gave them £5
apiece on account, and dismissed them to get the mooring gear ready, as
she was drawing near her destination, the Southwest India Dock. There
she was speedily moored, and the men, shaking hands warmly with Frank,
jumped ashore, to be surrounded at once by the usual gang of harpies,
who lie in wait for the sailor homeward-bound off a long voyage. But
Scotty, who had received the address of a nice little moderately-priced
hotel just off Oxford Street, took the lead of his little crowd, and
commissioned a boy to go and fetch two four-wheeled cabs, in which they
took their departure, and amidst a round of cheering which sent that
queer creeping feeling all over Frank’s body, they drove away through
the shoal of discomfited sharks.
The ship was duly handed over to the representatives of the owners, and
Mr. ----, taking Frank under his wing, drove off to his comfortable
hotel, where his wife was awaiting him with a warm welcome for “the
dear boy,” as she said, who had shown himself to be such a brave
sailor and a man. And there, over a dinner which seemed to Frank to be
a heavenly dream, after his long course of the ship’s poor grub, well
above the average as it had been, Frank had to tell the story of the
second voyage of the _Sealark_ over again. And then to a beautiful bed
and the sweet sleep of the untroubled young, although, to say truth,
he wakened several times during the night, and found himself listening
to what was a-doing on deck, as he thought. For we do not shake off
responsibility such as his had been so easily. But each time he thus
roused and listened, the blissful remembrance of his successfully
accomplished feat came over him, and he sank to sleep again with a
contented, happy sigh.