It was a strange and almost improper thought to occur to the
officer of the watch of a ship on the high seas on no matter how quiet a
night. Why on earth was he bothering his head? Why couldn't he dismiss
all these people from his mind? It was as if the mate had infected him
with his own diseased devotion. He would not have believed it possible
that he should be so foolish. But he was--clearly. He was foolish in a
way totally unforeseen by himself. Pushing this self-analysis further,
he reflected that the springs of his conduct were just as obscure.
"I may be catching myself any time doing things of which I have no
conception," he thought. And as he was passing near the mizzen-mast he
perceived a coil of rope left lying on the deck by the oversight of the
sweepers. By an impulse which had nothing mysterious in it, he stooped
as he went by with the intention of picking it up and hanging it up on
its proper pin. This movement brought his head down to the level of the
glazed end of the after skylight--the lighted skylight of the most
private part of the saloon, consecrated to the exclusiveness of Captain
Anthony's married life; the part, let me remind you, cut off from the
rest of that forbidden space by a pair of heavy curtains.
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