It
was always the ship, bound on any possible errand in the service of the
nation, that has been the stage for the exercise of seamen's primitive
virtues. The dimness of great distances and the obscurity of lives
protected them from the nation's admiring gaze. Those scattered distant
ships' companies seemed to the eyes of the earth only one degree removed
(on the right side, I suppose) from the other strange monsters of the
deep. If spoken of at all they were spoken of in tones of
half-contemptuous indulgence. A good many years ago it was my lot to
write about one of those ships' companies on a certain sea, under certain
circumstances, in a book of no particular length.
That small group of men whom I tried to limn with loving care, but
sparing none of their weaknesses, was characterised by a friendly
reviewer as a lot of engaging ruffians. This gave me some food for
thought. Was it, then, in that guise that they appeared through the
mists of the sea, distant, perplexed, and simple-minded? And what on
earth is an "engaging ruffian"? He must be a creature of literary
imagination, I thought, for the two words don't match in my personal
experience.
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