I sighs and gazes mushy hack towards the land.
"I can't help it," says I. "I think a heap of that little old burg.
It--it's been mother and father to me--all that sort of thing. I've
hardly ever been away from it, you know, and I--I--" Here I smiles sad
and makes a stab at swallowin' the lump.
"What a goose!" says Vee, but pats me soothin' on the shoulder. "Come,
let's do a few turns around the deck."
"Thanks," says I, "but I guess I'd better just sit here quiet and--and
try to forget."
"Nonsense!" says Vee. "That's a silly way to act. Besides, you ought
to tramp around and get the feel of the boat. You'll be noticing the
motion if you don't."
"Pooh!" says I. "What this old boat does is beneath my notice. She's
headed away from Broadway, that's all I know about her. But if you
want someone to trail around the deck with, I'm ready. Only I ain't
apt to be very cheerful, not for a while yet."
Say, that dope of Vee's about gettin' the feel of the boat was a good
hunch. Once you get it in your legs the soggy feelin' under your vest
begins to let up. Also your head clears. Why, inside of half an hour
I'm steppin' out brisk with my chin up, breathin' in great chunks of
salt air and meetin' that heave of the deck as natural as if I'd walked
on rubber pavements all my life.
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