"But," he said rather mournfully, "I don't know whether I shall ever see
any of them again, if we just keep on sailing and sailing. Are you going
back to South America again?"
The mate laughed a little. "No," he said. "The _Celestine's_ going to
Bedford. We can't put her off her course to drop you at Asquam--harbor's
no good, anyhow. My time's up when she docks. I'll take you home."
"Have you always been mate of the _Celestine_?" Kirk inquired.
"I have not," said Mr. Martin. "I signed aboard of her at Rio this trip,
to get up into the Christian world again. I've been deckhand and seaman
and mate on more vessels than I can count--in every part of the
uncivilized world. I skippered one ship, even--pestilential tub that she
was."
He fell silent after this speech, longer than any he had made so far.
"Then I'll get home," Kirk said. "_Home_. Can't we let 'em know, or
anything? I suppose they've been worrying."
"I think it likely that they have," said the mate. "No, this ship's got
no wireless. I'll send 'em a telegram when we dock to-morrow."
"Thank you," said Kirk. Then, after a long pause: "Oh, if you knew how
awful it was out there."
"I know," said Mr. Martin.
The _Celestine_ was bowling into Bedford Harbor with a fair wind. Kirk,
in a reefer any number of sizes too large for him, sat on a
hatch-coaming and drank in the flying wonder of the schooner's way. He
was sailing on a great ship! How surprised Ken would be--and envious,
too, for Ken had always longed to sail in a ship.
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