ind northeast, light," he began, according to the ancient form of the
sea, which makes the state of wind and weather of first and foremost
import. "Wind northeast, light. This day the _Martin Wilkes_ finished a
three year cruise. Found in port the _Nathan Ross_. She reports that
Captain Mark Shore left the ship when she watered at the Gilbert Islands.
He did not return, and could not be found. They searched three weeks.
They encountered hostile islanders. No trace of Mark Shore."

When he had written thus far, he read the record to himself, his lips
moving; then he sat for a space with frowning brows, thinking, thinking,
wondering if there were a chance....

But in the end he cast the hope aside. If Mark lived, they would have
found him, would surely have found him....

And so Joel wrote the ancient line:

"'All the brothers were valiant.'"

And below, as an afterthought, he added: "Joel Shore became first mate of
the _Martin Wilkes_ on her cruise."

He blotted this line, and closed the book, and put it away. Then he went
to the windows that looked down upon the Harbor, and stood there for a
long time. His face was serene, but his eyes were faintly troubled. He
did not see the things that lay outspread below him.

Yet they were worth seeing. The town was old, and it had the fragrance of
age about it.

Below Joel, on the hill's slopes, among the trees, stood the square white
houses of the town folk. Beyond them, the white spire of the church with
its weather vane atop. Joel marked that the wind was still northeast. The
vane swung fitfully in the light air. He could see the masts and yards of
the ships along the waterfront. The yards of the _Nathan Ross_ were
canted in mournful tribute to his brother. At the pier end beside her, he
marked the ranks of casks, brown with sweating oil. Beyond, the smooth
water ruffled in the wind, and dark ripple-shadows moved across its
surface with each breeze. There were gulls in the air, and on the water.
Such stillness lay upon the sleepy town that if his windows had been
open, he might have heard the harsh cries of the birds. A man was
sculling shoreward from a fishing schooner that lay at anchor off the
docks; and a whaleboat crawled like a spider across the harbor toward
Fairhaven on the other side.

On a flag staff above a big building near the water, a half-masted flag
hung idly in the faintly stirring air. It hung there, he knew, for his
brother's sake