He became very uncomfortable. And just
then (it might have been half an hour or more since he had relieved
Franklin) just then Mr. Smith came up on the poop alone, like a gliding
shadow and leaned over the rail by his side. Young Powell was affected
disagreeably by his presence. He made a movement to go away but the
other began to talk--and Powell remained where he was as if retained by a
mysterious compulsion. The conversation started by Mr. Smith had nothing
peculiar. He began to talk of mail-boats in general and in the end
seemed anxious to discover what were the services from Port Elizabeth to
London. Mr. Powell did not know for certain but imagined that there must
be communication with England at least twice a month. "Are you thinking
of leaving us, sir; of going home by steam? Perhaps with Mrs. Anthony,"
he asked anxiously.
"No! No! How can I?" Mr. Smith got quite agitated, for him, which did
not amount to much. He was just asking for the sake of something to talk
about. No idea at all of going home. One could not always do what one
wanted and that's why there were moments when one felt ashamed to live.
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