“Tried?” said Captain Young. “Why, when we came on board an hour ago your men pretended that they were all dying. Now they are feasting along with my lads as if nothing whatever had been the matter.”
“You don’t know how reduced and helpless we had all grown, sir,” said the doctor, coming to Steve’s help; “and you do not think of the effect upon them of your coming with help when they had all literally lain down to die.”
“I know, I know, my dear sir!” said the bluff, red-faced, grey-headed man. “I’ve gone through it all. Last winter I saw my poor fellows go down one by one, till I was the only man about who tried to fight the darkness and depression; and all the time so utterly weak and despairing that I could at any time have lain down and given up all hope. But we got through the winter, and this year my lads have held up wonderfully, and have battled through with hardly one breakdown.”
“It is astonishing,” said the doctor.
“Perhaps so; but I daresay all of you would have fought through a second year far better than your first.”
Steve shook his head.
“Nonsense, boy! It is principally the mind, and being used to things. You wrote at school, I know, ‘Familiarity breeds contempt,’ which, written simply, means, ‘Bogies don’t frighten you when you’ve seen them more than once.’”
“But our poor fellows were very bad, sir,” said Steve.
“Yes, in spirits, my boy. Now they think it’s all right, they get up and talk and eat and drink.”
“Well, but, uncle,” said Steve, “see how different our position is now!”