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II

           Allatoncemystrained,yearningstaredistinguishedawhiteobjectfloatingwithinayardoftheship’sside.Whiteontheblackwater.Aphosphorescentflashpassedunderit.Whatwasthatthing?...Irecognizedmyownfloppyhat.Itmusthavefallenoffhishead...andhedidn’tbother.NowIhadwhatIwanted—thesavingmarkformyeyes.ButIhardlythoughtofmyotherself,nowgonefromtheship,tobehiddenforeverfromallfriendlyfaces,tobeafugitiveandavagabondontheearth,withnobrandofthecurseonhissaneforeheadtostayaslayinghand...tooproudtoexplain.

           AndIwatchedthehat—theexpressionofmysuddenpityforhismereflesh.Ithadbeenmeanttosavehishomelessheadfromthedangersofthesun.Andnow—behold—itwassavingtheship,byservingmeforamarktohelpouttheignoranceofmystrangeness.Ha!Itwasdriftingforward,warningmejustintimethattheshiphadgatheredsternaway.

           “Shiftthehelm,”Isaidinalowvoicetotheseamanstandingstilllikeastatue.

           Theman’seyesglistenedwildlyinthebinnaclelightashejumpedroundtotheothersideandspunroundthewheel.

           Iwalkedtothebreakofthepoop.Ontheover-shadoweddeckallhandsstoodbytheforebraceswaitingformyorder.Thestarsaheadseemedtobeglidingfromrighttoleft.AndallwassostillintheworldthatIheardthequietremark,“She’sround,”passedinatoneofintensereliefbetweentwoseamen.

           “Letgoandhaul.”

           Theforeyardsranroundwithagreatnoise,amidstcheerycries.Andnowthefrightfulwhiskersmadethemselvesheardgivingvariousorders

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