A sleepy brown sailor, keeping a lookout, hung in the rigging by a single hand and one bare foot while letting the rest of his body bend and sway to the grand swells lifting the Falmouth packet up and down, up and down. His lazy grace and simple freedom were the envy of Matthew, who was on his aching knees and scrubbing the wooden deck with a rough cloth wrapped around a stone in an ever-spreading puddle of dirty water.
