you out of the pit while you had none but one leg in. It's said!
It's no use barking. I am not to be roused. The devil in me is chained by
the waist, and a twenty-pound weight on his tongue. With your assistance
I'll do the same for the devil in you. Since you've had plenty of sleep,
I 'll trouble you to commit to memory the whole story of the Prodigal Son
'twixt now and morrow's sunrise. We 'll have our commentary on it after
labour done. Labour you will in my vessel, for your soul's health. And
let me advise you not to talk; in your situation talking's temptation to
lying. You'll do me the obligation to feed at my table. And when I hand
you back to your parents, why, they'll thank me, if you won't. But it's
not thanks I look for: it's my bounden Christian duty I look to. I reckon
a couple o' stray lambs equal to one lost sheep.'
The captain uplifted his arm, ejaculating solemnly, 'By!' and faltered.
'You were going to swear!' said Temple, with savage disdain.
'By the blessing of Omnipotence! I'll save a pair o' pups from turning
wolves. And I'm a weak mortal man, that 's too true.'
'He was going to swear,' Temple muttered to me.
I considered the detection of Captain Welsh's hypocrisy unnecessary,
almost a condescension toward familiarity; but the ire in my bosom was
boiling so that I found it impossible to roll out the flood of eloquence
with which I was big. Soon after, I was trying to bribe the man with all
my money and my watch.
'Who gave you that watch?' said he.
'Downright Church catechism!' muttered Temple.
'My grandfather,' said I.
The captain's head went like a mechanical hammer, to express something
indescribable.
'My grandfather,' I continued, 'will pay you handsomely for any service
you do to me and my friend.'
'Now, that's not far off forgoing,' said the captain, in a tone as much
as to say we were bad all over.
I saw the waters slide by his cabin-windows. My desolation, my
humiliation, my chained fury, tumbled together. Out it came--
'Captain, do behave to us like a gentleman, and you shall never repent
it. Our relatives will be miserable about us. They--captain!--they don't
know where we are. We haven't even a change of clothes. Of course we know
we're at your mercy, but do behave like an honest man. You shall be paid
or not, just as you please, for putting us on shore, but we shall be
eternally grateful to you. Of course you mean kindly to us; we see
that--'
'I thank the Lo
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