Francis!" "Aye, aye, sir!" "Take that gaping booby up with you.

I hear he's 'good at athletics.'" The sailors who were rope-tarring sniggered audibly, and Alister lifted his face with a look of anxiety, that did as much as the sniggering to stimulate me not to disgrace myself.
"Kick off your shoes, and come along," said Francis.

"Jump on the bulwarks and then follow me.

Look aloft--that's up, ye know--never mind your feet, but keep tight hold of the ratlins--so, with your hands, and when you _are_ up aloft, don't let one hand go till you're sure of your hold with the other." Up we went, gripping the swaying ropes with toes and fingers, till we reached the main-top, where I was allowed to creep through the "Lubber's Hole," and Francis swung himself neatly over the outside edge of the top, and there he and I stood for a few minutes to rest.
I cannot say I derived much comfort from his favourable comments on my first attempt.

I was painfully absorbed by realizing that to climb what is steady, and to climb what is swaying with every wave, are quite different things.