ptain, evidently pleased
by his visitor's delighted enthusiasm.

Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be.

Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He pointed
to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels.

"You see," he said, "there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But look
here."

He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen which was
lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's surprise it burned
steadily, without blowing out.

"I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just forward
of the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the stiffest gale,
without any trouble."

On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright,
persuasive sound.

"Six bells," the Captain said. "I must dress for dinner. Before I start
you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little discussion of
ours about Free Will. One or two things you said interested me."

He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard.

"I'll test your sincerity," he said. "To-night you can bunk in the
chart-room. I'll have some dinner sent up to you. I wish you would write
me an essay of, say, two thousand words on the subject of Necessity."

For a moment Gissing pondered whether it would not be better to be put
in irons and rationed with bread and water. The wind was freshening, and
the Pomerania's sharp bow slid heavily into broad hills of sea, crashing
them into crumbling rollers of suds which fell outward and hissed
along her steep sides. The silent Mr. Pointer escorted him into
the chart-room, a bare, businesslike place with a large table, a
map-cabinet, and a settee. Here, presently, a steward appeared with
excellent viands, and a pen, ink, and notepaper. After a cautious meal,
Gissing felt more comfortable. There is something about a wet, windy
evening at sea that turns the mind naturally toward metaphysics. He
pushed away the dishes and began to write.

Later in the evening the Captain reappeared. He looked pleased when he
saw a number of sheets already covered with script.

"Rum lot of passengers this trip," he said. "I don't seem to see any who
look interesting. All Big Business and that sort of thing. I must say
it's nice to have someone who can talk about books, and so on, once in a
while."

Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely
one. The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquet