glass of spirits in the roundhouse, he would deride the notion.

It was Mr. Riach (Heaven forgive him!) who gave the boy drink; and

it was, doubtless, kindly meant; but besides that it was ruin to his

health, it was the pitifullest thing in life to see this unhappy,

unfriended creature staggering, and dancing, and talking he knew not

what. Some of the men laughed, but not all; others would grow as black

as thunder (thinking, perhaps, of their own childhood or their own

children) and bid him stop that nonsense, and think what he was doing.

As for me, I felt ashamed to look at him, and the poor child still comes

about me in my dreams.

All this time, you should know, the Covenant was meeting continual

head-winds and tumbling up and down against head-seas, so that the

scuttle was almost constantly shut, and the forecastle lighted only by a

swinging lantern on a beam. There was constant labour for all hands; the

sails had to be made and shortened every hour; the strain told on the

men's temper; there was a growl of quarrelling all day, long from berth

to berth; and as I was never allowed to set my foot on deck, you

can picture to yourselves how weary of my life I grew to be, and how

impatient for a change.

And a change I was to get, as you shall hear; but I must first tell of

a conversation I had with Mr. Riach, which put a little heart in me to

bear my troubles. Getting him in a favourable stage of drink (for indeed

he never looked near me when he was sober), I pledged him to secrecy,

and told him my whole story.

He declared it was like a ballad; that he would do his best to help

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