Sam sat on the deck and panted. He played on the boards like a public
fountain. At the back of his mind there was a flickering thought that
he wanted to do something, a vague feeling that he had some sort of an
appointment which he must keep; but he was unable to think what it was.
Meanwhile, he conducted tentative experiments with his breath. It was
so long since he had last breathed that he had lost the knack of it.
"Well, aincher wet?" said a voice.
The skipper's daughter was standing beside him, looking down
commiseratingly. Of the rest of the family all he could see was the
broad blue seats of their trousers as they leaned hopefully over the
side in the quest for wealth.
"Yessir! You sure are wet! Gee! I never seen anyone so wet! I seen wet
guys, but I never seen anyone so wet as you. Yessir, you're certainly
_wet_!"
"I _am_ wet," admitted Sam.
"Yessir, you're wet! Wet's the word all right. Good and wet, that's
what you are!"
"It's the water," said Sam. His brain was still clouded; he wished he
could remember what that appointment was.
Pages:
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60