ve him behind; while I could only return him but
doubtful answers. The whole thing took on a somewhat tragic complexion.

And this horrible problem was only an extraneous episode, a mere
complication in the general problem of how to get that ship--which was
mine with her appurtenances and her men, with her body and her spirit
now slumbering in that pestilential river--how to get her out to sea.

Mr. Burns, while still acting captain, had hastened to sign a
charter-party which in an ideal world without guile would have been
an excellent document. Directly I ran my eye over it I foresaw trouble
ahead unless the people of the other part were quite exceptionally
fair-minded and open to argument.

Mr. Burns, to whom I imparted my fears, chose to take great umbrage
at them. He looked at me with that usual incredulous stare, and said
bitterly:

"I suppose, sir, you want to make out I've acted like a fool?"

I told him, with my systematic kindliness which always seemed to augment
his surprise, that I did not want to make out anything. I would leave
that to the future.

And, sure enough, the future brought in a lot of trouble. There were
days when I used to remember Captain Giles with nothing short of
abhorrence. His confounded acuteness had let me in for this job; while
his prophecy that I "would have my hands full" coming true, made it
appear as if done on purpose to play an evil joke on my young innocence.

Yes. I had my hands full of complications which were most valuable
as "experience." People have a great opinion of the advantages of
experience. But in this connection experience means always something
disagreeable as opposed to the charm and innocence of illusions.

I must say I was losing mine rapidly. But on these instructive
complications I must not enlarge more than to say that they could all be
resumed in the one word: Delay.

A mankind which has invented the proverb, "Time is money," will
understand my vexation. The word "Delay" entered the secret chamber of
my brain, resounded there like a tolling bell which maddens the ear,
affected all my senses, took on a black colouring, a bitter taste, a
deadly meaning.

"I am really sorry to see you worried like this. Indeed, I am. . . ."

It was the only humane speech I used to hear at that time. And it came
from a doctor, appropriately enough.

A doctor is humane by definition. But that man was so in reality. His
speech was not professional. I was not ill. But