Both laugh.  The abbot says angrily: 

“You are both drunk.”

“Yes, a little!  But if I were sober I would have laughed still more,” answers Haggart.

“Don’t laugh, Haggart,” says Mariet.

Haggart replies angrily: 

“I don’t like the tongues of false priests, Mariet—­they are coated with truth on top, like a lure for flies.  Take him away, and you, girl, go away, too!  I have forgotten your name!”

He sits down and stares ahead sternly.  His eyebrows move close together, and his hand is pressed down heavily by his lowered head, by his strong chin.

“He does not know you, father!  Tell him about yourself.  You speak so well.  If you wish it, he will believe you, father.  Haggart!”

Haggart maintains silence.

“Noni!  Captain!”

Silence.  Khorre whispers mysteriously: 

“He feels sad.  Girl, tell the priest that he feels sad.”

“Khorre,” begins Mariet.  Haggart looks around quickly.

“What about Khorre?  Why don’t you like him, Mariet?  We are so much like each other.”

“He is like you?” says the woman with contempt.  “No, Haggart!  But here is what he did:  He gave gin to little Noni again to-day.  He moistened his finger and gave it to him.  He will kill him, father.”

Haggart laughs: 

“Is that so bad?  He did the same to me.”

“And he dipped him in cold water.  The boy is very weak,” says Mariet morosely.

“I don’t like to hear you speak of weakness.  Our boy must be strong.  Khorre!  Three days without gin.”

He shows him three fingers.

“Who should be without gin?  The boy or I?” asks Khorre gloomily.

“You!” replies Haggart furiously.  “Begone!”

The sailor sullenly gathers his belongings—­the pouch, the pipe, and the flask—­and wabbling, goes off.  But he does not go far—­he sits down upon a neighbouring rock.  Haggart and his wife look at him.

CHAPTER III

The work is ended.  Having lost its gloss, the last neglected fish lies on the ground; even the children are too lazy to pick it up; and an indifferent, satiated foot treads it into the mud.  A quiet, fatigued conversation goes on, mingled with gay and peaceful laughter.

“What kind of a prayer is our abbot going to say to-day?  It is already time for him to come.”

“And do you think it is so easy to compose a good prayer?  He is thinking.”

“Selly’s basket broke and the fish were falling out.  We laughed so much!  It seems so funny to me even now!”

Laughter.  Two fishermen look at the sail in the distance.

“All my life I have seen large ships sailing past us.  Where are they going?  They disappear beyond the horizon, and I go off to sleep; and I sleep, while they are forever going, going.  Where are they going?  Do you know?”