I used to be General Manager of
Beagle and Company."
"Come into my cabin and have a liqueur," said the skipper. "Let
the essay go until to-morrow."
The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the
night was cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were
little chintz curtains; over the bunk was a convenient reading
lamp. On the wall a brass pendulum swung slowly, registering the
roll of the ship. The ruddy shine of the stove lit up the orderly
desk and the photographs of the Captain's family.
"Yours?" said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with
droll Scottish faces. "Aye," said the Captain.
"I've three of my own," said Gissing, with a private pang of
homesickness. The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly
domestic he had seen since the evening he first fled from
responsibility.
Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger
in the badly damaged wedding garments had not given the
impression of a family head. Just then the steward entered with a
decanter of Benedictine and small glasses.
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