"Well, I looked to the south-east, and there my star stood blazin',
just over the dark o' the land, with its reap-hook over its forehead.
'The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light . . .'

"While I stood staring at it, thinkin' my thoughts, there came a
noise all of a sudden from the other lugger, as if someone had kicked
over a table down below, and upset half a dozen pots and pans.
Then, almost before I had time to wonder, I heard Dog Mitchell
scramble forth on deck, find his feet in a scrufflin' way, and start
travisin' forth and back, forth and back, talkin' to himself all the
while and cursin'. He was fairly chewin' curses. I guessed what was
the matter. He had been down below toppin' things up with a last
soak of neat whisky, and now he had the shakes on him, or the
beginnings of 'em.

"You know the sayin', 'A fisherman's walk--two steps, an' overboard'?
. . . I tell you I was in misery for the man. Any moment he might
lurch overboard, or else throw himself over--one as likely as another
with a poor chap in that state. Yet how could I help--cut off,
without boat or any means to get to him?

"Forth and back he kept goin', in his heavy sea-boots. I could hear
every step he took, and when he kicked against the hatchway-coamin'
(he did this scores o' times) and when he stood still and spat
overboard. Once he tripped over the ship's mop--got the handle
a-foul of his legs, and talked to it like a pers'nal enemy.
Terrible language--terrible!

"It struck me after a bit"--here Pilot Matthey turned to me with one