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I
shrank
from
his
hand
;
my
flesh
revolted
.
And
between
this
and
the
smells
arising
from
various
pots
boiling
and
bubbling
on
the
galley
fire
,
I
was
in
haste
to
get
out
into
the
fresh
air
.
Further
,
there
was
the
need
of
seeing
the
captain
about
what
arrangements
could
be
made
for
getting
me
ashore
.
A
cheap
cotton
shirt
,
with
frayed
collar
and
a
bosom
discoloured
with
what
I
took
to
be
ancient
blood-stains
,
was
put
on
me
amid
a
running
and
apologetic
fire
of
comment
.
A
pair
of
workman
's
brogans
encased
my
feet
,
and
for
trousers
I
was
furnished
with
a
pair
of
pale
blue
,
washed-out
overalls
,
one
leg
of
which
was
fully
ten
inches
shorter
than
the
other
.
The
abbreviated
leg
looked
as
though
the
devil
had
there
clutched
for
the
Cockney
's
soul
and
missed
the
shadow
for
the
substance
.
"
And
whom
have
I
to
thank
for
this
kindness
?
"
I
asked
,
when
I
stood
completely
arrayed
,
a
tiny
boy
's
cap
on
my
head
,
and
for
coat
a
dirty
,
striped
cotton
jacket
which
ended
at
the
small
of
my
back
and
the
sleeves
of
which
reached
just
below
my
elbows
.
The
cook
drew
himself
up
in
a
smugly
humble
fashion
,
a
deprecating
smirk
on
his
face
.
Out
of
my
experience
with
stewards
on
the
Atlantic
liners
at
the
end
of
the
voyage
,
I
could
have
sworn
he
was
waiting
for
his
tip
.
From
my
fuller
knowledge
of
the
creature
I
now
know
that
the
posture
was
unconscious
.
An
hereditary
servility
,
no
doubt
,
was
responsible
.
"
Mugridge
,
sir
,
"
he
fawned
,
his
effeminate
features
running
into
a
greasy
smile
.
"
Thomas
Mugridge
,
sir
,
an
'
at
yer
service
.
"
"
All
right
,
Thomas
,
"
I
said
.
"
I
shall
not
forget
you
--
when
my
clothes
are
dry
.
"
A
soft
light
suffused
his
face
and
his
eyes
glistened
,
as
though
somewhere
in
the
deeps
of
his
being
his
ancestors
had
quickened
and
stirred
with
dim
memories
of
tips
received
in
former
lives
.
"
Thank
you
,
sir
,
"
he
said
,
very
gratefully
and
very
humbly
indeed
.
Precisely
in
the
way
that
the
door
slid
back
,
he
slid
aside
,
and
I
stepped
out
on
deck
.
I
was
still
weak
from
my
prolonged
immersion
.
A
puff
of
wind
caught
me
--
and
I
staggered
across
the
moving
deck
to
a
corner
of
the
cabin
,
to
which
I
clung
for
support
.
The
schooner
,
heeled
over
far
out
from
the
perpendicular
,
was
bowing
and
plunging
into
the
long
Pacific
roll
.
If
she
were
heading
south-west
as
Johnson
had
said
,
the
wind
,
then
,
I
calculated
,
was
blowing
nearly
from
the
south
.
The
fog
was
gone
,
and
in
its
place
the
sun
sparkled
crisply
on
the
surface
of
the
water
,
I
turned
to
the
east
,
where
I
knew
California
must
lie
,
but
could
see
nothing
save
low-lying
fog-banks
--
the
same
fog
,
doubtless
,
that
had
brought
about
the
disaster
to
the
Martinez
and
placed
me
in
my
present
situation
.
To
the
north
,
and
not
far
away
,
a
group
of
naked
rocks
thrust
above
the
sea
,
on
one
of
which
I
could
distinguish
a
lighthouse
.
In
the
south-west
,
and
almost
in
our
course
,
I
saw
the
pyramidal
loom
of
some
vessel
's
sails
.
Having
completed
my
survey
of
the
horizon
,
I
turned
to
my
more
immediate
surroundings
.
My
first
thought
was
that
a
man
who
had
come
through
a
collision
and
rubbed
shoulders
with
death
merited
more
attention
than
I
received
.
Beyond
a
sailor
at
the
wheel
who
stared
curiously
across
the
top
of
the
cabin
,
I
attracted
no
notice
whatever
.
