At the far end, in the shadow, the tall figure of Attwater was to be seen leaning on a tree; towards him, with his hands over his head, and his steps smothered in the sand, the clerk painfully waded.
The surrounding glare threw out and exaggerated the man's smallness; it seemed no less perilous an enterprise, this that he was gone upon, than for a whelp to besiege a citadel.
'There, Mr Whish.

That will do,' cried Attwater.

'From that distance, and keeping your hands up, like a good boy, you can very well put me in possession of the skipper's views.' The interval betwixt them was perhaps forty feet; and Huish measured it with his eye, and breathed a curse.

He was already distressed with labouring in the loose sand, and his arms ached bitterly from their unnatural position.

In the palm of his right hand, the jar was ready; and his heart thrilled, and his voice choked as he began to speak.
'Mr Hattwater,' said he, 'I don't know if ever you 'ad a mother...' 'I can set your mind at rest: I had,' returned Attwater; 'and henceforth, if I might venture to suggest it, her name need not recur in our communications.