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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"A Tale Of The Forecastle"

A lot of
quarrels were set going at once.--"Yes."--"No."--"Never been sick."--"Go
for them to once."--"Shut yer mouth, youngster---this is men's
work."--"Is it?" muttered Captain Allistoun, bitterly. Mr. Baker
grunted: "Ough! They're gone silly. They've been simmering for the last
month."--"I did notice," said the master.--"They have started a row
amongst themselves now," said Mr. Creighton with disdain, "better get
aft, sir. We will soothe them.--"Keep your temper, Creighton," said the
master. And the three men began to move slowly towards the cabin door.
In the shadows of the fore rigging a dark mass stamped, eddied,
advanced, retreated. There were words of reproach, encouragement,
unbelief, execration. The elder seamen, bewildered and angry, growled
their determination to go through with something or other; but the
younger school of advanced thought exposed their and Jimmy's wrongs with
confused shouts, arguing amongst themselves. They clustered round that
moribund carcass, the fit emblem of their aspirations, and encouraging
one another they swayed, they tramped on one spot, shouting that they
would not be "put upon.


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