Chance

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Anthony seems to get hold wonderfully of what one's

telling her."

"Sailor's granddaughter. One of the old school. Old sea-dog of the best

kind, I believe," ejaculated the captain, swinging past his motionless

second officer and leaving the words behind him like a trail of sparks

succeeded by a perfect conversational darkness, because, for the next two

hours till he left the deck, he didn't open his lips again.

On another occasion . . . we mustn't forget that the ship had crossed the

line and was adding up south latitude every day by then . . . on another

occasion, about seven in the evening, Powell on duty, heard his name

uttered softly in the companion. The captain was on the stairs, thin-

faced, his eyes sunk, on his arm a Shetland wool wrap.

"Mr. Powell--here."

"Yes, sir."

"Give this to Mrs. Anthony. Evenings are getting chilly."

And the haggard face sank out of sight. Mrs. Anthony was surprised on

seeing the shawl.

"The captain wants you to put this on," explained young Powell, and as

she raised herself in her seat he dropped it on her shoulders. She

wrapped herself up closely.

"Where was the captain?" she asked.

"He was in the companion. Called me on purpose," said Powell, and then

retreated discreetly, because she looked as though she didn't want to

talk any more that evening. Mr. Smith--the old gentleman--was as usual

sitting on the skylight near her head, brooding over the long chair but

by no means inimical, as far as his unreadable face went, to those

conversations of the two youngest people on board. In fact they seemed

to give him some pleasure. Now and then he would raise his faded china

eyes to the animated face of Mr. Powell thoughtfully. When the young

sailor was by, the old man became less rigid, and when his daughter, on

rare occasions, smiled at some artless tale of Mr. Powell, the

inexpressive face of Mr. Smith reflected dimly that flash of evanescent

mirth. For Mr. Powell had come now to entertain his captain's wife with

anecdotes from the not very distant past when he was a boy, on board

various ships,--funny things do happen on board ship. Flora was quite

surprised at times to find herself amused. She was even heard to laugh

twice in the course of a month. It was not a loud sound but it was

startling enough at the after-end of the Ferndale where low tones or

silence were the rule. The second time this happened the captain himself

must have been startled somewhere down below; because he emerged from the

depths of his unobtrusive existence and began his tramping on the

opposite side of the poop.