The mate murmured to himself. "No. He can't know. No! No more than a
baby. It would take an older head."
"I don't even understand what you mean," observed Mr. Powell coldly.
"And even the best head would be puzzled by such devil-work," the mate
continued, muttering. "Well, I have heard tell of women doing for a man
in one way or another when they got him fairly ashore. But to bring
their devilry to sea and fasten on such a man! . . . It's something I
can't understand. But I can watch. Let them look out--I say!"
His short figure, unable to stoop, without flexibility, could not express
dejection. He was very tired suddenly; he dragged his feet going off the
poop. Before he left it with nearly an hour of his watch below
sacrificed, he addressed himself once more to our young man who stood
abreast of the mizzen rigging in an unreceptive mood expressed by silence
and immobility. He did not regret, he said, having spoken openly on this
very serious matter.
"I don't know about its seriousness, sir," was Mr. Powell's frank answer.
"But if you think you have been telling me something very new you are
mistaken.
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