He
hesitated. The stranger seized the opportunity to take his arm, and lead
him with the half familiarity of powerful protection to a bench beneath
the refectory window. Taking out his watch again, he put it in the
passive hands of the astonished priest, saying, "Time me," cleared his
throat, and began:--
"Fourteen years ago there was a ship cruisin' in the Pacific, jest off
this range, that was ez nigh on to a Hell afloat as anything rigged kin
be. If a chap managed to dodge the cap'en's belayin-pin for a time,
he was bound to be fetched up in the ribs at last by the mate's boots.
There was a chap knocked down the fore hatch with a broken leg in the
Gulf, and another jumped overboard off Cape Corrientes, crazy as a loon,
along a clip of the head from the cap'en's trumpet. Them's facts. The
ship was a brigantine, trading along the Mexican coast. The cap'en
had his wife aboard, a little timid Mexican woman he'd picked up at
Mazatlan. I reckon she didn't get on with him any better than the men,
for she ups and dies one day, leavin' her baby, a year-old gal.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26