'Oh, crumpled up at once. 'Lead still going, Matchem?'
'I 'aven't 'eard,' said that faithful servant of the Union-Castle Company.
'Quite right. Never alarm the passengers. Ship the dead-light, will you?' Matchem shipped it, for we were rolling very heavily. There were tramplings and gull-like cries from on deck. Shend looked at me with a mariner's eye.
'That's nothing,' he said protectingly.
'Oh, it's all right for you,' I said, jumping at the idea. 'I haven't an extra master's certificate. I'm only a passenger. I confess it funks me.'
Instantly his whole bearing changed to answer the appeal.
'My dear fellow, it's as simple as houses. We're hunting for sixty-five fathom water. Anything short of sixty, with a sou'west wind means--but I'll get my Channel Pilot out of my cabin and give you the general idea. I'm only too grateful to do anything to put your mind at ease.'
And so, perhaps, for another hour--he declined the drink--Channel Pilot in hand, he navigated us round Ushant, and at my request up-channel to Southampton, light by light, with explanations and reminiscences. I professed myself soothed at last, and suggested bed.
'In a second,' said he. 'Now, you wouldn't think, would you'--he glanced off the book toward my wildly swaying dressing-gown on the door--'that I've been seeing things for the last half-hour? 'Fact is, I'm just on the edge of 'em, skating on thin ice round the corner--nor'east as near as nothing--where that dog's looking at me.'
'What's the dog like?' I asked.