Chapter 8

           Onenight,abouteleveno’clock,amanofMr.Riach’swatch(whichwasondeck)camebelowforhisjacket;andinstantlytherebegantogoawhisperabouttheforecastlethat“Shuanhaddoneforhimatlast.”Therewasnoneedofaname;weallknewwhowasmeant;butwehadscarcetimetogettheidearightlyinourheads,farlesstospeakofit,whenthescuttlewasagainflungopen,andCaptainHoseasoncamedowntheladder.Helookedsharplyroundthebunksinthetossinglightofthelantern;andthen,walkingstraightuptome,headdressedme,tomysurprise,intonesofkindness.

           “Myman,”saidhe,“wewantyetoserveintheround-house.YouandRansomearetochangeberths.Runawayaftwithye.”

           Evenashespoke,twoseamenappearedinthescuttle,carryingRansomeintheirarms;andtheshipatthatmomentgivingagreatsheerintothesea,andthelanternswinging,thelightfelldirectontheboy’sface.Itwasaswhiteaswax,andhadalookuponitlikeadreadfulsmile.Thebloodinmerancold,andIdrewinmybreathasifIhadbeenstruck.

           “Runawayaft;runawayaftwithye!”criedHoseason.

           AndatthatIbrushedbythesailorsandtheboy(whoneitherspokenormoved),andranuptheladderondeck.

           Thebrigwassheeringswiftlyandgiddilythroughalong,crestingswell.Shewasonthestarboardtack,andonthelefthand,underthearchedfootoftheforesail,Icouldseethesunsetstillquitebright.