ngaged on that gravedigger's work, and trying to toss shovelfuls of wet
sand up to windward. At every tumble of the ship you could see vaguely
in the dim light men falling down with a great flourish of shovels.
One of the ship's boys (we had two), impressed by the weirdness of the
scene, wept as if his heart would break. We could hear him blubbering
somewhere in the shadows.

"On the third day the gale died out, and by-and-by a north-country tug
picked us up. We took sixteen days in all to get from London to the
Tyne! When we got into dock we had lost our turn for loading, and they
hauled us off to a tier where we remained for a month. Mrs. Beard (the
captain's name was Beard) came from Colchester to see the old man. She
lived on board. The crew of runners had left, and there remained only
the officers, one boy, and the steward, a mulatto who answered to the
name of Abraham. Mrs. Beard was an old woman, with a face all wrinkled
and ruddy like a winter apple, and the figure of a young girl. She
caught sight of me once, sewing on a button, and insisted on having my
shirts to repair. This was something different from the captains' wives
I had known on board crack clippers. When I brought her the shirts, she
said: 'And the socks? They want mending, I am sure, and John's--Captain
Beard's--things are all in order now. I would be glad of something to
do.' Bless the old woman! She overhauled my outfit for me, and meantime
I read for the first time _Sartor Resartus_ and Burnaby's _Ride to
Khiva_. I didn't understand much of the first then; but I remember I
preferred the soldier to the philosopher at the time; a preference
which life has only confirmed. One was a man, and the other was either
more--or less. However, they are both dead, and Mrs. Beard is dead, and
youth, strength, genius, thoughts, achievements, simple hearts--all dies
.... No matter.

"They loaded us at last. We shipped a crew. Eight able seamen and two
boys. We hauled off one evening to the buoys at the dock-gates, ready to
go out, and with a fair prospect of beginning the voyage next day. Mrs.
Beard was to start for home by a late train. When the ship was fast
we went to tea. We sat rather silent through the meal--Mahon, the old
couple, and I. I finished first, and slipped away for a smoke, my cabin
being in a deck-house just against the poop. It was high water, blowing
fresh with a drizzle; the double dock-gates were opened, and the steam
colliers were going