What would you have me do?"
The oafs exchanged glances. They spoke after a minute in a united,
disjointed grumble.
"You don't work."
The Englishman looked at them and at me. I realized that he was
curiously slight and young, and that we seemed hostile. That was
hardly just, and I was ready to go to his rescue. But he turned from
me to the men.
"It is true that I work very badly," he said. "I do not know how. But
men are born of women, and--well, what a man can do I can learn.
Suppose, now, that I go and relieve Pierre at the watch. If you will
show me what to do I think you will find me teachable. I shall try to
be as little of a burden as possible. Here is my hand on it." And he
held out his slim palm for their grasp.
Again they stared; but the hand won them. They touched it fumblingly
and were impressed. They were a slow lot, selected for various
purposes other than wit. Their minds moved too sluggishly for swift
reactions, and I dismissed anxiety about them from my mind.
The Englishman turned to me. "Will you conduct me to the shore? I
will take Pierre's place."
It was my turn to stare. "Suppose you conduct yourself," was on my
tongue, but I let it escape unsaid.
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