fell on the racing tide; the weird lights flickered in the brown depths
of the water; and the swirling eddies gurgled darkly and flung the boats
hither and thither. In the stern of each boat was a crouching figure;
for the little cabin-boy had to wait in the cold until the pleasures of
rum and conversation had palled upon his master. Sometimes the boy fell
asleep; there came a lurch, he fell into the swift tide, and was borne
away into the dark. Over and over again did little boys lose their lives
in this way when their thoughtless masters kept them waiting until
midnight or later.

Through hunger and cruelty and storm and stress, the luckier cabin-boy
grew in health and courage until his time was out. When he went home he
wore a thick blue coat, wide blue trousers, and a flat cap with mystic
braid; and on the quay he strolled with his peers in great majesty. Tiny
children admired his earrings and his cap and his complicated swagger.
Then in due time came the blessed day when he called himself ordinary
seaman, and when the most energetic of mates dared not thrash him
(unless, indeed, the mate happened to be much the stronger man, in which
case professional etiquette was apt to be disregarded); his pay rose to
£2 a month; he felt justified in walking regularly with a maiden of his
choice; and his brown face showed signs of moustache and beard. Then he
became A.B., then mate, and last of all he reached the glories of
mastership and £8 a month. By that time he had become a resolute,
skilful man, with coarse tastes and blunt feelings. Danger never cost
him a thought. He would swear fearfully about trifling annoyances; but
in utmost peril, when his ship was rolling yard-arm under, or straining
off the gnashing cliffs of a lee-shore, he was quiet and cool and
resigned. He took the risk of his life as part of his day's work and
made no fuss about it. He was hopelessly ignorant and wildly
conservative; he believed in England, and reckoned foreigners as a minor