"You know the sayin', 'A fisherman's walk--two steps, an' overboard'?
. . . I tell you I was in misery for the man. Any moment he might
lurch overboard, or else throw himself over--one as likely as another
with a poor chap in that state. Yet how could I help--cut off,
without boat or any means to get to him?
"Forth and back he kept goin', in his heavy sea-boots. I could hear
every step he took, and when he kicked against the hatchway-coamin'
(he did this scores o' times) and when he stood still and spat
overboard. Once he tripped over the ship's mop--got the handle
a-foul of his legs, and talked to it like a pers'nal enemy.
Terrible language--terrible!
"It struck me after a bit"--here Pilot Matthey turned to me with one
of those shy smiles which, as they reveal his childish, simple heart,
compel you to love the man. "It struck me after a bit that a
hemn-tune mightn't come amiss to a man in that distress of mind.
So I pitched to sing that grand old tune, 'Partners of a glorious
hope,' a bit low at first, but louder as I picked up confidence.
Soon as he heard it he stopped short, and called out to me to shut my
head. So, findin' that hemns only excited him, I sat quiet, while he
picked up his tramp again.
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