The Bunker Mouseby Frederick Stuart Greene
Format of Original Source: Short Story
Recommended Adaptation Length:
Candidate for Adaptation? Promising
When the sun hung low over the sugar plantations that stretch in flat miles to the east and west beyond the levees, when all was quiet on land and water and ship, Neville walked slowly to the forecastle.
“Sullivan,” he called, “come with me.”
Dan climbed down from his bunk and came to the door; the big stoker searched Neville’s face with a changed, sobered look.
“I’ve been wantin’ all this time to go to ‘im. How’s he now, sir?”
“He’s dying, Sullivan, and has asked for you.”
Outside Neville’s quarters Dan took off his cap and went quietly into the room.
Larry lay with closed eyes, his face ominously white.
Dan crept clumsily to the berth and put his big hand on Larry’s shoulder.
“It’s me, Mouse. They wouldn’t leave me come no sooner.”
Larry’s head moved slightly; his faded eyes opened.
Dan stooped in awkward embarrassment until his face was close to Larry.
“I come to ask you–” Dan stopped. The muscles of his thick neck moved jerkily–“to ask you, Mouse, before–to forgit the damn mean things–I done to you, Mouse.”
A tear-jerker of a sea-story. Lots of heart; lots of sentiment.
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