Dr Tom picked it up carefully, smoothed it out, and caressed it as though it had been a pet kitten.
When he arrived in Sydney he secured the shipping reporter of the Morning Light and took him into his cabin.
'Read that,' said Dr Tom, in a solemn manner, handing the rejected of the skipper to the worthy press man.
The shipping reporter of the Morning Light blinked and looked uneasy. He had read Dr Tom's poems before, or pretended to, and the effect was not pleasing.
But the doctor kept good whisky in his den, and the man who chronicled the doings of ships on their voyages from far countries dearly loved a drop of the real stingo, which money could not then purchase in Sydney, and of which very little is to be had even unto this day.
The poem was duly read.
'It is one of your best efforts,' said the scribe. This opinion was diplomatic, and committed him to nothing.
The doctor smiled, and there was a pleasant jingle of glasses, and a soothing odour penetrated the stuffy little medicine box.
'Ah!' sighed Dr Tom, 'I knew you would appreciate it.'
A sound of liquid flowing into a glass was balm to the shipping reporter of the Morning Light.