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Maurice sank weakly down against a tree trunk, and groaned. Mr Lawrence having meditated awhile, rose from his chest, unclasped his arms, and whistling softly the familiar air of "Wapping Old Stairs," quitted his naked, forlorn, inhospitable berth. "Who is in command of this ship?" she enquired in a low, harsh voice, almost a whisper. "Whoever he is," she rattled on, "I am his prisoner. I am being carried away into captivity, I who am a princess, though soon to be clothed in tatters. If you are a man with a heart have mercy upon me, and turn this ship and steer me home!".
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Conrad
At such times expert indeed must be the hand that guides the frail skiff through those treacherous seas. But the slim punt which rounded Mud Point betwixt the darkness and the dawn, in the teeth of an all night gale, was propelled by one who knew every whimsical mood of Rond Eau. Now high on frothy comber, now lost to view between the waves, the little craft beat onward, a speck of driftwood on the angry waves. Sullen daylight was revealing a world of wind-whipped, spray-drenched desolation when the punt at last rounded the point and swept into the comparative calm of the lee shore. Then the rower shipped his oars and glanced at his companion who sat huddled low in the bow of the boat, the collar of his shooting coat turned high about his ears. "No, I didn't. Joe had left for Bridgetown to bring in a couple of duck-hunters to old man Swanson's. Clevelanders, they are, so I didn't see him." "You will find him fully qualified in that, and in all else. A smarter seaman never trod shipboard." Billy was watching him closely. "Pa," he said earnestly, "there's something else I might as well let you know while I'm about it. This man Hinter owns a schooner, er leastways is boss of one, an' it was her brought them drillin' rigs 'cross the lake. The boat's been layin' along the Point, a mile out from shore fer more'n a month now, an' Hinter has been keepin' in touch with her right along.".
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