It was curious to stand on that deck
and recognise it all, bit by bit; a place against the rail where I'd
been fond of smoking by starlight, and the corner where an old chap
from Sydney used to flirt with a widow we had aboard. A comfortable
couple they'd been, only a month ago, and now you couldn't have
got a meal for a baby crab off either of them.
"I've always had a bit of a philosophical turn, and I dare say I
spent the best part of five minutes in such thoughts before I went
below to find where the blessed dust was stored. It was slow work
hunting, feeling it was for the most part, pitchy dark, with confusing
blue gleams down the companion. And there were things moving about,
a dab at my glass once, and once a pinch at my leg. Crabs, I expect.
I kicked a lot of loose stuff that puzzled me, and stooped and
picked up something all knobs and spikes. What do you think?
Backbone! But I never had any particular feeling for bones. We
had talked the affair over pretty thoroughly, and Always knew just
where the stuff was stowed. I found it that trip. I lifted a box
one end an inch or more."
He broke off in his story.
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