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“Butallthisdoesn’ttellmehowyoucametohangontooursideladder,”Iinquired,inthehardlyaudiblemurmursweused,afterhehadtoldmesomethingmoreoftheproceedingsonboardtheSephoraoncethebadweatherwasover.
“WhenwesightedJavaHeadIhadhadtimetothinkallthosemattersoutseveraltimesover.Ihadsixweeksofdoingnothingelse,andwithonlyanhourorsoeveryeveningforatramponthequarter-deck.”
Hewhispered,hisarmsfoldedonthesideofmybedplace,staringthroughtheopenport.AndIcouldimagineperfectlythemannerofthisthinkingout—astubbornifnotasteadfastoperation;somethingofwhichIshouldhavebeenperfectlyincapable.
“Ireckoneditwouldbedarkbeforeweclosedwiththeland,”hecontinued,solowthatIhadtostrainmyhearingnearasweweretoeachother,shouldertouchingshoulderalmost.“SoIaskedtospeaktotheoldman.Healwaysseemedverysickwhenhecametoseeme—asifhecouldnotlookmeintheface.Youknow,thatforesailsavedtheship.Shewastoodeeptohaverunlongunderbarepoles.AnditwasIthatmanagedtosetitforhim.Anyway,hecame.WhenIhadhiminmycabin—hestoodbythedoorlookingatmeasifIhadthehalterroundmyneckalready—IaskedhimrightawaytoleavemycabindoorunlockedatnightwhiletheshipwasgoingthroughSundaStraits.TherewouldbetheJavacoastwithintwoorthreemiles,offAngierPoint.Iwantednothingmore.I’vehadaprizeforswimmingmysecondyearintheConway.”
“Icanbelieveit,”Ibreathedout.
