“Well, Old Rogers,” I said, as soon as he came within hail, trying to speak cheerfully, “you cannot get much farther this way—without wading a bit, at least.” “I don’t want to go no farther now, sir. I came to find you.” “Nothing amiss, I hope?” “Nothing as I knows on, sir. I only wanted to have a little chat with you. I told master I wanted to leave for an hour or so. He allus lets me do just as I like.” “But how did you know where to find me?” “I saw you come this way. You passed me right on the bridge, and didn’t see me, sir. So says I to myself, ‘Old Rogers, summat’s amiss wi’ parson to-day. He never went by me like that afore. This won’t do. You just go and see.’ So I went home and told master, and here I be, sir. And I hope you’re noways offended with the liberty of me.” “Did I really pass you on the bridge?” I said, unable to understand it. “That you did, sir. I knowed parson must be a goodish bit in his own in’ards afore he would do that.” “I needn’t tell you I didn’t see you, Old Rogers.” “I could tell you that, sir. I hope there’s nothing gone main wrong, sir. Miss is well, sir, I hope?” “Quite well, I thank you. No, my dear fellow, nothing’s gone main wrong, as you say. Some of my running tackle got jammed a bit, that’s all. I’m a little out of spirits, I believe.” “Well, sir, don’t you be afeard I’m going to be troublesome. Don’t think I want to get aboard your ship, except you fling me a rope. There’s a many things you mun ha’ to think about that an ignorant man like me couldn’t take up if you was to let ’em drop. And being a gentleman, I do believe, makes the matter worse betuxt us. And there’s many a thing that no man can go talkin’ about to any but only the Lord himself. Still you can’t help us poor folks seeing when there’s summat amiss, and we can’t help havin’ our own thoughts any more than the sailor’s jackdaw that couldn’t speak. And sometimes we may be nearer the mark than you would suppose, for God has made us all of one blood, you know.” “What ARE you driving at, Old Rogers?” I said with a smile, which was none the less true that I suspected he had read some of the worst trouble of my heart. For why should I mind an honourable man like him knowing what oppressed me, though, as things went, I certainly should not, as he said, choose to tell it to any but one? “I don’t want to say what I was driving at, if it was anything but this—that I want to put to the clumsy hand of a rough old tar, with a heart as soft as the pitch that makes his hand hard—to trim your sails a bit, sir, and help you to lie a point closer to the wind. You’re not just close-hauled, sir.” “Say on, Old Rogers. I understand you, and I will listen with all my heart, for you have a good right to speak.” And Old Rogers spoke thus:—