Explore "A Son of the Sea" by John Arthur Barry on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
TORRE'S last job was to sweep the decks fore and aft. It was dark when he finished, and he had then to run sharp for the supper whilst the other three sat on their chests and looked at him sourly. So far his day had been a round of ceaseless drudgery. Had he known how many similar ones were before him he would, likely enough, have walked ashore and steered due west to the "Tavistock," where his uncle was stopping.
At dinner-time he had used a piece of canvas for wiping the plates with. That had disappeared, and he was at a loss. "Take one o' yer fine white sarks," said Campbell, with a laugh. "It's all the use ye'll ever hae for them."