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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"A Tale Of The Forecastle"

"--"If we lift 'im, we drop 'im
overboard," said another voice, "we can't feel our hands with cold."--"I
don't care. I am choking!" exclaimed James Wait in a clear tone.--"Oh,
no, my son," said the boatswain, desperately, "you don't go till we
all go on this fine night."--"You will see yet many a worse," said Mr.
Baker, cheerfully.--"It's no child's play, sir!" answered the boatswain.
"Some of us further aft, here, are in a pretty bad way."--"If the blamed
sticks had been cut out of her she would be running along on her bottom
now like any decent ship, an' giv' us all a chance," said some one,
with a sigh.--"The old man wouldn't have it... much he cares for us,"
whispered another.--"Care for you!" exclaimed Mr. Baker, angrily. "Why
should he care for you? Are you a lot of women passengers to be taken
care of? We are here to take care of the ship--and some of you ain't up
to that. Ough!... What have you done so very smart to be taken care of?
Ough!... Some of you can't stand a bit of a breeze without crying over
it."--"Come, sorr. We ain't so bad," protested Belfast, in a voice
shaken by shivers; "we ain't... brr..."--"Again," shouted the mate,
grabbing at the shadowy form; "again!.


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