The wind had eased
a little, he thought, but the sea ran as high as ever. The waves foamed
viciously, and the lee side of the deck disappeared under a hissing
whiteness as of boiling milk, while the rigging sang steadily with a
deep vibrating note, and, at every upward swing of the ship, the wind
rushed with a long-drawn clamour amongst the spars. Mr. Baker watched
very still. A man near him began to make a blabbing noise with his
lips, all at once and very loud, as though the cold had broken brutally
through him. He went on:--"Ba--ba--ba--brrr--brr--ba--ba."--"Stop that!"
cried Mr. Baker, groping in the dark. "Stop it!" He went on shaking the
leg he found under his hand.--"What is it, sir?" called out Belfast,
in the tone of a man awakened suddenly; "we are looking after that
'ere Jimmy."--"Are you? Ough! Don't make that row then. Who's that near
you?"--"It's me--the boatswain, sir," growled the West-country man;
"we are trying to keep life in that poor devil."--"Aye, aye!" said Mr.
Baker. "Do it quietly, can't you?"--"He wants us to hold him up above
the rail," went on the boatswain, with irritation, "says he can't
breathe here under our jackets.
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