V
THE repellent cadence beat upon Ogle's ears, then got inside of them and clung lingeringly there. When Macklyn and Jones, after a few final words about Tinker, had gone below, the heated playwright decided to cool his head with a round or two of the open deck before dressing; and to his disgust he found his step keeping time to the hateful drum-beat chant:
Mariar!
Mariar!
Bay rum in a bottle we'll buy 'er!
Mariar!
Bay rum in a bottle we'll buy 'er!
The thing was so persistent that when he paused, standing by the rail and looking peevishly out at the flattened sea, the deep pulsation of the ship's propellers throbbed up into his feet:
Mariar!
Mariar!
Dirty old Auntie Mariar!
Mariar!
Dirty old Auntie Mariar!
He went below, keeping time to "Mariar" with every step. It was a curse upon him, worse than
