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"Any ship is that--for a reasonable man," generalized Marlow in a
conciliatory tone. "A sailor isn't a globe-trotter."
"No," muttered Mr. Powell.
"Time's nothing to him," advanced Marlow.
"I don't suppose it's much," said Mr. Powell. "All the same a quick
passage is a feather in a man's cap."
"True. But that ornament is for the use of the master only. And by the
by what was his name?"
"The master of the _Ferndale_? Anthony. Captain Anthony."
"Just so. Quite right," approved Marlow thoughtfully. Our new
acquaintance looked over his shoulder.
"What do you mean? Why is it more right than if it had been Brown?"
"He has known him probably," I explained. "Marlow here appears to know
something of every soul that ever went afloat in a sailor's body."
Mr. Powell seemed wonderfully amenable to verbal suggestions for looking
again out of the window, he muttered:
"He was a good soul."
This clearly referred to Captain Anthony of the _Ferndale_. Marlow
addressed his protest to me.
"I did not know him. I really didn't. He was a good soul.


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