"You—a schoolmaster!" I exclaimed, sitting up with a jerk.
"Yes. Then I left the business, and went to sea as a purser's mate in the American trade. I saw a bit, and learned more geography than I could teach. I suppose you know all the celebrated sea places?"
"Oh yes; Trafalgar, and all those, of course."
"And Dungeness, Beachy Head, Harfleur, and Ushant close here, on the great first of June. I could tell boys all about them better now. Ay, ay; but let's not think of them. You want breakfast—all right."
He disappeared, and in a few minutes another man entered with a tray of good things, including marmalade and jam, toast, and hot rolls. What a splendid breakfast I made. I almost forgot my home then. But the reaction came, and I felt miserable once more.
At half-past eight—I mean one bell in the forenoon watch—I said I would get up. I received some assistance from the steward, who had dried my clothes, but they had shrunk sadly. I made inquiries for Tim.
"He's forward all right,—you mean the fisherman, don't you?"
"Yes, Tim Murry. I should like to see him."
"You can see him on the forecastle, if you like. You can walk forward when you've found your legs. Gently does it."
I was greatly amused by being advised to take care. Why, I had been out in vessels in very rough seas often! The idea of the steamer being so bad was ridiculous. So I stepped out on deck, and was just about to gaze around when I was thrown forcibly against the port (lee) bulwarks, and the breath knocked out of my body.