"'Hallo, there!' said he, 'I'm not used to this kind of language.'
"'Perhaps not,' I said; for with the thorough drenching and the fright I was now thoroughly angry. 'But you'll have to listen to it. You cannot put your fingers in your ears and steer the Halcyone. It will take us an hour to reach land, and you must hear what you never heard before.'
"'I've a strong inclination,' he said, 'to pitch you overboard.'
"'I'm quite sure you're perfectly capable of murder,' I said. 'But again, you cannot let go the ropes in this gale. Besides, there are two sides to that question.'
"Then and there I pitched into him, told him how he was breaking his child's heart, how he was hated all along the coast, etc., etc.; but I insisted especially on his dishonesty in professing a creed which he denied in daily practice. I was thoroughly angry, and gave my passion full swing. He listened without a word as we went shoreward. At last he said:
"'By Jove! I never thought that a priest could speak to a gentleman so boldly. Now, that damned old landlubber'—I beg your pardon, sir," broke in my curate, "the words escaped me involuntarily."
"Never mind," I said, "go on."
"But it was very disrespectful—"
"Now, I insist on hearing every word he said. Why, that's the cream of the story."
"Well, he said: 'That damned old landlubber and bookworm never addressed me in that manner,'—but perhaps he meant some one else."