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Billy was giving no attention to the teacher. He was edging towards Lou Scroggie, who stood looking at him from dumb, pleading eyes. He had been nursed by Lucy from the time of his being slung over the side. The wounds were dressed by her hands. Day after day, hour after hour, she sat beside him in his cabin. She carried his tray of food into his little sea-bedroom, and fed him, or helped him to feed himself. And though at night he was watched by his father, the instructions given were that if the patient expressed a wish for her presence, Lucy was to be summoned, no matter the hour of the night in which the call was made. "I guess she is the barque, sir, if the frigate's signal is right. They command a greater height aboard of her than we can, and I fancy they have twigged something fore-and-aft on the mizzen-mast.".
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Conrad
"I drinks a drop of rum when it comes on very bad. I've given up rubbing. I've been rubbed till I've scarce got any skin left." "Be here," said he, "on Saturday next. It may be that I'll give you the berth. No more words. Off with you!" "Why, it belongs to Mr. Scroggie," Hinter answered. "It was brought across from Ohio by schooner. You know what it is, I suppose?" "Ho, Billy!" he boomed, gripping the lad's arm in his huge hand, "you won't steal Maurice away from the work I've set him to do this mornin', I'll be bound. Back to the house you come with me, young man. I want Maurice to finish his job.".
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