ward. It is curious how difficult it is to
describe the simplest evolutions of the soul. But I was no longer
oppressed by Mister George and his languages. I had accomplished
something far beyond the most abstruse philologies--I had got what I
wanted.

"And I took him his book, a big obsolete tome bound in hide. He was
rapturous, wiping his hands on some waste and opening it upside down.
'Ah, yes, very good, very good!' he said. 'I read plenty English books,
yes. Thank you, I am very much obliged. Knowledge is power, eh?' I
smiled, I suppose, for he leaned toward me eagerly. 'No? You think not,
eh? Ah, when I had the jaundice, I read many books.' He waved his arms
to indicate long galleries of libraries. 'Plenty, plenty, books. Oh,
yes.' Once again I had the feeling of listening to an automaton. It
seemed so futile talking to such a being. Indeed, that is why I tell you
about him. He was my first foreigner. I had always been able to get into
some sort of touch with the people I had met. I knew how they lived and
loved and thought. But him! He had dressed his mind up in the showy rags
and remnants of our speech as a savage will dress his body in
incongruous clothing, and of what he was, inside, I could form no
conjecture. Between us was an impassable barrier. I was trying to
realize what made me so silent before his volubility, when the bell on
the forecastle of the _Corydon_ struck eight times. It was midnight and
my watch was over. I said good-bye. 'I will visit your ship,' said my
friend, Mister George. 'I have been on plenty ships. Oh, yes,
plenty....'

"I ran away at last. I daresay he would have practised his English on me
till daybreak if I hadn't run away. I went down and found things all
quiet, and then I came up and roused old Croasan. He was lying on the
settee and the gin-bottle stood on the chest-of-drawers, empty. He
raised himself on his elbow and looked at me gloomily. I was so glad to
get back and talk to a real human being, drunk as he was, that I patted
him on the shoulder and told him we would have the dynamos fixed up in
the morning. He blinked, and fell back exhausted. I hoisted him up again
and he looked round resentfully. 'Aren't you going to turn out?' I asked
him. 'Come on, Mister.' 'Is she all right?' he growled. 'Yes, of
course!' I answered, rashly, and he promptly lay down again and declined
to move. I was in a hole, but not downhearted. I couldn't turn in
unless he turned out, you know. I w