At the Schooner’s Rail.

           

           Thatnightlandwassightedaftersundown,andtheschoonerhoveto.Montgomeryintimatedthatwashisdestination.Itwastoofartoseeanydetails;itseemedtomethensimplyalow-lyingpatchofdimblueintheuncertainblue-greysea.Analmostverticalstreakofsmokewentupfromitintothesky.Thecaptainwasnotondeckwhenitwassighted.Afterhehadventedhiswrathonmehehadstaggeredbelow,andIunderstandhewenttosleeponthefloorofhisowncabin.Thematepracticallyassumedthecommand.Hewasthegaunt,taciturnindividualwehadseenatthewheel.ApparentlyhewasinaneviltemperwithMontgomery.Hetooknottheslightestnoticeofeitherofus.Wedinedwithhiminasulkysilence,afterafewineffectualeffortsonmyparttotalk.Itstruckmetoothatthemenregardedmycompanionandhisanimalsinasingularlyunfriendlymanner.IfoundMontgomeryveryreticentabouthispurposewiththesecreatures,andabouthisdestination;andthoughIwassensibleofagrowingcuriosityastoboth,Ididnotpresshim.

           Weremainedtalkingonthequarterdeckuntiltheskywasthickwithstars.Exceptforanoccasionalsoundintheyellow-litforecastleandamovementoftheanimalsnowandthen,thenightwasverystill.Thepumalaycrouchedtogether,watchinguswithshiningeyes,ablackheapinthecornerofitscage.Montgomeryproducedsomecigars.HetalkedtomeofLondoninatoneofhalf-painfulreminiscence,askingallkindsofquestionsaboutchangesthathadtakenplace.

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Roboto Lora
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