He felt chilled more than he should have been by
the chilly dusk falling on the muddy green sea of the soundings from a
smoothly clouded sky. A fitful wind swept the cheerless waste, and the
ship, hauled up so close as to check her way, seemed to progress by
languid fits and starts against the short seas which swept along her
sides with a snarling sound.
Young Powell thought that this was the dreariest evening aspect of the
sea he had ever seen. He was glad when the other occupants of the poop
left it at the sound of the bell. The captain first, with a sudden
swerve in his walk towards the companion, and not even looking once
towards his wife and his wife's father. Those two got up and moved
towards the companion, the old gent very erect, his thin locks stirring
gently about the nape of his neck, and carrying the rugs over his arm.
The girl who was Mrs. Anthony went down first. The murky twilight had
settled in deep shadow on her face. She looked at Mr. Powell in passing.
He thought that she was very pale. Cold perhaps. The old gent stopped a
moment, thin and stiff, before the young man, and in a voice which was
low but distinct enough, and without any particular accent--not even of
inquiry--he said:
"You are the new second officer, I believe.
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