"But I was, sir. I knew no more what I was coming to than a babe, and
once you're here, you stays here." "Well, never mind for the present,
my man. Why, you're a regular lawyer, you rascal; I shall have to mind
my p's and q's with you. Now don't talk any more, or you'll fidget, and
that won't do your back any good. Will you have bread and milk, or
beef-tea and toast, you luxurious person? And I must be your valet."

"I don't know about vally, sir. It's vally enough for me. To think as I
should have a gentleman waitin' on me as if he was a cabin-boy! Anything
_you_ like, sir. The sight of you makes me better."

The man's tears were flowing; he was weak, poor fellow, and wanting in
the item of well-bred reticence. Lewis fed one patient, trimmed the
other's bed, put on a woollen helmet, sou'-wester, two pairs of gloves,
and the trusty Russian coat; then he was slung into the boat like a
bundle of clothes; landed springily on a thole, and departed over seas
not much bigger than an ordinary two-storey house. It was quite moderate
weather, and the sprightly young savant had lost that feeling which
makes you try to double yourself into knots when you watch a wave
gradually shutting away the outer world and preparing to fold its livid
gloom about you. "What would the Cowes fellows say to this, I wonder?"
thought the irreverent young pioneer. Then he chuckled over the thought
of the reckless Seadogs who march in nautical raiment on the pier. Those
wild, rollicking Seadogs! How the North Sea men would envy them and
their dower of dauntlessness! The Seadog takes his frugal lunch at the
club; he begins with a sole, and no doubt he casts a patronizing thought
towards the other Seadogs who trawled for the delicate fish. They are
not so like seamen in appearance as is the Cowes Seadog; they do not
wear shiny buttons; the polish on their boots is scarcely brilliant;
they wear unclean jumpers, and flannel trousers fit to make an aesthetic
Seadog faint with emotion of various sorts. No! they are not pattern
Seadogs at all--those North Sea workers. Would that they could learn a
lesson from the hardy Cowes Rover. Well, the Rover tries a cutlet after
his fish, then he has cheese and a grape or two, and he tops up his
frugal meal with a pint of British Imperial. A shilling cigar brings his
lunch up to just sixteen shillings--as much as a North Sea amateur could
earn in a week of luck--and then he prepares to face the terrors of the
Deep.