"
"I like that," said Kirk, in a small voice. "Go on."
But the singing stopped immediately, and Kirk feared that he had only
dreamed it, after all. However, a large, warm hand was laid quite
substantially on his forehead, and the same voice that had been singing,
said:
"H'm! Thought you'd have another go at the old world, after all?"
"Where is this?" Kirk asked.
"This is the four-mast schooner _Celestine_, returning from South
America. I am Martin, mate of said schooner--at your service. Hungry?"
"That's funny," said Kirk; "the boat Ken gave me is called the
_Celestine_. And _she's_ a four-masted schooner. Where's Ken?"
"I'm sorry--I don't know. Hungry?"
"I think I am," said Kirk.
Certainly the mate of the _Celestine_ had a most strong and comfortable
arm wherewith to raise a person. He administered bread and hot condensed
milk, and Kirk began to realize that he was very hungry indeed.
"Now you go to sleep," Mr. Martin advised, after his brief manner.
"Warm, now?"
Yes, Kirk was quite warm and cozy, but very much bewildered, and
desirous of asking a hundred questions. These the mate forbade.
"You go to sleep," he commanded.
"Then please sing another tune," Kirk said. "What was that you were
playing on?"
"Violin," said Mr. Martin. "Fiddle. I was plunking it like a banjo. Now
I'll play it, if you'll stop talking."
Kirk did, and the mate began to play. His music was untaught, and he
himself had made up the strange airs he played.
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