Captain Anthony made a movement towards the companion
himself, when Powell added the information. "Mr. Smith called to Mrs.
Anthony from the saloon, sir. I believe they are talking there now."
He was surprised to see the captain give up the idea of going below after
all.
He began to walk the poop instead regardless of the cold, of the damp
wind and of the sprays. And yet he had nothing on but his sleeping suit
and slippers. Powell placing himself on the break of the poop kept a
look-out. When after some time he turned his head to steal a glance at
his eccentric captain he could not see his active and shadowy figure
swinging to and fro. The second mate of the _Ferndale_ walked aft
peering about and addressed the seaman who steered.
"Captain gone below?"
"Yes, sir," said the fellow who with a quid of tobacco bulging out his
left cheek kept his eyes on the compass card. "This minute. He
laughed."
"Laughed," repeated Powell incredulously. "Do you mean the captain did?
You must be mistaken. What would he want to laugh for?"
"Don't know, sir.
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