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Price, Edith Ballinger, 1897-1997

"Us and the Bottleman"


He leaned on the sill of the open casement with his dark face
just below mine and began to pour out, in halting English, a
tale which at first I had some trouble in understanding. The
most that I made of it was that he, and he alone, knew the
whereabouts of a city buried ages since under the sea and
filled with treasure of an unbelievable description. But you
may imagine that even the hint of such a thing was enough to
set me all athrill, and I was not greatly surprised at myself
when I found that I was following the queer, slinking figure
down our bare little New England street.
He led me to a ship, an old brigantine heavy with age and
barnacles and hung about with the sorriest gray rags of
canvas that ever did duty for sails. No wonder that nine days
out we lost our fore tops'l. But stay; I fear I go too fast!
For you must know that I went aboard that brigantine, and
once aboard I could not go ashore again, partly because the
strange, ill-assorted crew detained me at every turn, and
partly because the longing was so strong upon me to see the
things I had read of so often. And that night found me still
upon the vessel, nosing down to the harbor light, with the
lamps of my father's house winking less and less brightly on
the dim shore astern.
Well, sirs, it would weary you to tell much of that voyage,
and besides, many's the time you yourselves must have
weathered the Horn.


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