|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmbtm
 

aid me back with interest. It so happened that
we both loved the little barque very much. And it was just the
defect of Mr. B-'s inestimable qualities that he would never
persuade himself to believe that the ship was safe in my hands. To
begin with, he was more than five years older than myself at a time
of life when five years really do count, I being twenty-nine and he
thirty-four; then, on our first leaving port (I don't see why I
should make a secret of the fact that it was Bangkok), a bit of
manoeuvring of mine amongst the islands of the Gulf of Siam had
given him an unforgettable scare. Ever since then he had nursed in
secret a bitter idea of my utter recklessness. But upon the whole,
and unless the grip of a man's hand at parting means nothing
whatever, I conclude that we did like each other at the end of two
years and three months well enough.
The bond between us was the ship; and therein a ship, though she
has female attributes and is loved very unreasonably, is different
from a woman. That I should have been tremendously smitten with my
first command is nothing to wonder at, but I suppose I must admit
that Mr. B-'s sentiment was of a higher order. Each of us, of
course, was extremely anxious about thyilai：
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On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmbst