The heat was intense, and both
Tredgold and Chalk had declined to proceed with a conversation limited
almost entirely on his side to personal abuse. He tried the helmsman,
and made that unfortunate thirsty for a week by discussing the rival
merits of bitter ale in a pewter and stout in a china mug. The helmsman,
a man of liberal ideas, said, with some emotion, that he could drink
either of them out of a flower-pot.
Mr. Chalk became strangely restless as they neared their goal. He had
come thousands of miles and had seen nothing fresh with the exception of
a few flying-fish, an albatross, and a whale blowing in the distance.
Pacing the deck late one night with Captain Brisket he expressed mild
yearnings for a little excitement.
"You want adventure," said the captain, shaking his head at him. "I know
you. Ah, what a sailorman you'd ha' made. With a crew o' six like
yourself I'd take this little craft anywhere. The way you pick up
seamanship is astonishing. Peter Duckett swears you must ha' been at sea
as a boy, and all I can do I can't persuade him otherwise."
"I always had a feeling that I should like it," said Mr. Chalk, modestly.
"Like it!" repeated the captain.
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