"
One of the crew of the dingy climbed up the gangway of the wharf and
took Keating by the elbow. He looked at him and then at Channing and
winked. He was apparently accustomed to this complication. "I haven't
got a paper, Keating," Channing argued, soothingly. "Who have you got
to help you?" he asked. It came to him that there might be on the
boat some Philip sober, to whom he could appeal from Philip drunk.
"I haven't got anyone to help me," Keating answered, with dignity. "I
don't need anyone to help me." He placed his hand heavily and
familiarly on the shoulder of the deck-hand. "You see that man?" he
asked. "You see tha' man, do you? Well, tha' man he's too good for me
an' you. Tha' man--used to be the best reporter in New York City, an'
he was too good to hustle for news, an' now he's--now he can't get a
job--see? Nobody'll have him, see? He's got to come and be a stoker."
He stamped his foot with indignation.
"You come an' be a stoker," he commanded. "How long you think I'm
going to wait for a stoker? You stoker, come on board and be a
stoker."
Channing smiled, guiltily, at his good fortune, He jumped into the
bow of the dingy, and Keating fell heavily in the stern.
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