e man to condemn a brother officer
to such a fate without an overwhelming conviction. Rather would he....

But his thoughts refused to travel that road. He sat looking out at the
sombre beauty of the sky, noting the long rigid black bar that divided
sharply the dark swamps from the shining pallor of the roadstead. He
tapped his teeth with his pencil. No, he was not prepared to jeopardize
his own prospects. He had a family. He hoped to spend more time with
them later ... after the war. He was beginning to think sea life was
narrowing. One got out of touch with so many phases of human interest
and activity.... One toiled and moiled, and suffered agonies of anxiety
and defeated vigilance; sleep and leisure went by the board for days;
one found fault and made mistakes; superior young men in warships asked
sarcastic questions during the small hours; and all to what end? After
all, one only earned for all this the salary which a successful
barrister or surgeon would pay his chauffeur. It was preposterous, when
one came to regard it. So Captain Meredith's thoughts ran on, with a
sort of light bitterness, sharpening their flavour and inclining him to
charity. In more senses than one, he and Mr. Spokesly were in the same
boat. He put his papers away in a drawer, picked up his cigar to take
the air on the bridge. Without registering any final and irrevocable
decision, he had made a mental note that "unless the man made an ass of
himself" he would not stand in his way.

The sun, concealed behind a distant range, threw up a ruddy and vigorous
glow as from an open cupola, but the roadstead lay in a profound shadow
whose edge began to sparkle with coloured lights of a singular
distinctness and individuality. It was like watching from the depths of
space a congregation of blessed yet still intensely personal spirits on
the heavenly shores. They stood in clusters or apart, in long lines or
zigzags far up the mountain side. At times they were obliterated by
trolley cars--gently moving glares which bore on their foreheads
flashing blue-white gems. At other times a fountain of sparks indicated
an otherwise invisible puff of smoke from a locomotive, and whole
galaxies of shining points would vanish while an ammunition train moved
laboriously across the city. But no knowledge of the actual causes could
destroy the illusion that the lights were informed with an intelligent
vitality. They winked and quivered with mysterious emotions. They wen