A hand, icy-cold, fumbled and gripped it in the darkness.
"Christ! Where's a place to lie down ?" "Here, on this rock." They peered at each other, but could not see.
The man's teeth chattered close to Taffy's ear.
"Warm my hands, mate--there's a good chap." He lay on the rock and panted.

Taffy took his hands and began to rub them briskly.
"Where's the ship ?" "Where's the ship ?" He seemed to turn over the question in his mind, and then stretched himself with a sigh.

"How the hell should I know ?" "What's her name ?" Taffy had to ask the question twice.
"The _Samaritan_, of Newport, brigantine.

Coals she carried.
Ha'n't you such a thing as a match?
It seems funny to me, talkin' here like this, and me not knowin' you from Adam." He panted between the words, and when he had finished lay back and panted again.
"Hurt ?" asked Taffy after a while.
The man sat up and began to feel his limbs, quite as though they belonged to some other body.

"No, I reckon not." "Then we'd best be starting.