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Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 1.4, chapter 1.7 (search)
ll feelings of sickly wretchedness away, and drew me on deck immediately. My nerves tingled, and my senses seemed to swim, as I cast a look at the unsteady sea and uneasy ship; but the strong penetrating breeze was certainly a powerful tonic, though not such a reviver as the sight of the ireful fellow who came on at a tearing pace towards me and hissed: Seize that scrubbing-broom, you — joskin! Lay hold of it, I say, and scrub, you — son of a sea-cook! Scrub like--! Scrub until you drop! Sweat, you — swab! Dig into the deck you----white-livered lime-juicer! I stole the briefest possible glance at his inflamed face, to catch some idea of the man who could work himself into such an intense rage, for he was a kind of creature never dreamed of before by me. Seeing me bend to my task without argument or delay, he darted to another boy on the lee side, and with extreme irony and retracted lips, stooped, with hands on knees, and said to him: Now, Harry, my lad, I am sure you don't wa<