Franklin
did not seem to expect conversational ease from the new second mate. He
made several remarks about the old, deploring the accident. Awkward.
Very awkward this thing to happen on the very eve of sailing.
"Collar-bone and arm broken," he sighed. "Sad, very sad. Did you notice
if the captain was at all affected? Eh? Must have been."
Before this congested face, these globular eyes turned yearningly upon
him, young Powell (one must keep in mind he was but a youngster then) who
could not remember any signs of visible grief, confessed with an
embarrassed laugh that, owing to the suddenness of this lucky chance
coming to him, he was not in a condition to notice the state of other
people.
"I was so pleased to get a ship at last," he murmured, further
disconcerted by the sort of pent-up gravity in Mr. Franklin's aspect.
"One man's food another man's poison," the mate remarked. "That holds
true beyond mere victuals. I suppose it didn't occur to you that it was
a dam' poor way for a good man to be knocked out."
Mr. Powell admitted openly that he had not thought of that.
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