"So I see. Now tell me your name in full, so that I can write it
next to the mark. It's a wonder of a mark! Mac--what's the rest
of it?"
"Hassan Ah."
"Machassan?"
"No, sah. Hassan Ah."
"And you're English?"
"Yes, sah."
"With that name?"
"Mah name makes no diffunts, sah. Ah'm English."
"Well--here's your money. Cutter away, there! Put the pilot and
his crew ashore! Sorry about your boat, pilot, but it couldn't
be helped."
"Makes me believe that I'm a nigger!" muttered Curley Crothers, not
yet released from duty on the bridge.
"First time I ever wished I was a Dutchman!" swore Joe Byng, coiling
up his sounding line.
Ten minutes later the cutter's captain swung the boat's stern in
shore when he judged that he was reasonably near enough and too far
in for sharks. He had his orders to put the pilot and his crew ashore,
but the means had not been too exactly specified.
"Get out and swim for it, you bally Englishman!" he ordered, using
a boat-hook on the nearest one to make his meaning clear.
One by one they jumped for it, the pilot going last.
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