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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"A Tale Of The Forecastle"

"Run aft, Mr. Creighton, and see what that fool there is up
to."--"Flatten in the head sheets. Stand by the weather fore-braces,"
growled Mr. Baker. Startled men ran swiftly repeating the orders. The
watch below, abandoned all at once by the watch on deck, drifted towards
the forecastle in twos and threes, arguing noisily as they went--"We
shall see to-morrow!" cried a loud voice, as if to cover with a menacing
hint an inglorious retreat. And then only orders were heard, the falling
of heavy coils of rope, the rattling of blocks. Singleton's white head
flitted here and there in the night, high above the deck, like the ghost
of a bird.--"Going off, sir!" shouted Mr. Creighton from aft.--"Full
again."--"All right... "--"Ease off the head sheets. That will do the
braces. Coil the ropes up," grunted Mr. Baker, bustling about.
Gradually the tramping noises, the confused sound of voices, died out,
and the officers, coming together on the poop, discussed the events. Mr.
Baker was bewildered and grunted; Mr. Creighton was calmly furious;
but Captain Allistoun was composed and thoughtful. He; listened to Mr.
Baker's growling argumentation, to Creighton's interjected and severe
remarks, while look-' ing down on the deck he weighed in his hand the
iron belaying-pin--that a moment ago had just missed his head--as if it
had been the only tangible fact of the whole transaction.


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