A sea captain wheands upon the bridge, or looks out from his deck-house, thinks much about God and about the world. Away in the valley yonder among the and the poppies men may well fet all things except the warmth of the sun upon the face, and the kind shadow uhe hedge; but he who jourhrough storm and darkness must hink and think. One July a couple of years ago I took my supper with a Captain Moran on board the S.S. Margaret, that had put into a western river from I know not where. I found him a man of many notions all flavoured with his personality, as is the way with sailors. He talked in his queer sea manner of God and the world, and up through all his words broke the hard energy of his calling.
「Sur,」 said he, 「did you ever hear tell of the sea captain』s prayer?」
「No,」 said I; 「what is it?」
「It is,」 he replied, 「』ive me a stiff upper lip.』」
「And what does that mean?」
「It means,」 he said, 「that when they e to me some night and wake me up, and say, 『Captain, we』re going down,』 that I won』t make a fool o』 meself. Why, sur, we war in mid Atlantid I standin』 on the bridge, whehird mate es up to me looking mortial bad. Says he, 『Captain, all』s up with us.』 Says I, 『Didn』t you know when you joihat a certain pertage go down every year?』 『Yes, sur,』 says he; and says I, 『Arn』t you paid to go down?』 『Yes, sur,』 says he; and says I, 『Then go down like a man, and be damo you!」』