“Just the usual, sir.” “But nothing like plague or⁠—” “No sir.” “The Lord is merciful,” said the skipper. His voice was wholly sincere⁠—an old ship’s bell Hung in the steeple of a meeting-house With all New England and the sea’s noise in it. “Well, you’d better take another look-see, Mr. Mate.” The mate felt his lips go dry. “Aye aye, sir,” he said, Wetting his lips with his tongue. As he left the cabin He heard the Bible being opened again.