The strange words, the cautious tone, the whole person left a strong
uneasiness in the mind of Mr. Powell. He started walking the poop in
great mental confusion. He felt all adrift. This was funny talk and no
mistake. And this cautious low tone as though he were watched by someone
was more than funny. The young second officer hesitated to break the
established rule of every ship's discipline; but at last could not resist
the temptation of getting hold of some other human being, and spoke to
the man at the wheel.
"Did you hear what this gentleman was saying to me?"
"No, sir," answered the sailor quietly. Then, encouraged by this
evidence of laxity in his officer, made bold to add, "A queer fish, sir."
This was tentative, and Mr. Powell, busy with his own view, not saying
anything, he ventured further. "They are more like passengers. One sees
some queer passengers."
"Who are like passengers?" asked Powell gruffly.
"Why, these two, sir."