ot I. There was a time when I never
cared to leave this ship for more than a couple of hours in the evening,
even while in London, but now, since--"

He checked himself with a roll of his prominent eyes towards that
youngster, that stranger. Meantime, he was leading the way across the
quarter-deck under the poop into the long passage with the door of the
saloon at the far end. It was shut. But Mr. Franklin did not go so far.
After passing the pantry he opened suddenly a door on the left of the
passage, to Powell's great surprise.

"Our mess-room," he said, entering a small cabin painted white, bare,
lighted from part of the foremost skylight, and furnished only with a
table and two settees with movable backs. "That surprises you? Well, it
isn't usual. And it wasn't so in this ship either, before. It's only
since--"

He checked himself again. "Yes. Here we shall feed, you and I, facing
each other for the next twelve months or more--God knows how much more!
The bo'sun keeps the deck at meal-times in fine weather."

He talked not exactly wheezing, but like a man whose breath is somewhat
short, and the spirit (young Powell could not help thinking) embittered
by some mysterious grievance.

There was enough of the unusual there to be recognized even by Powell's
inexperience. The officers kept out of the cabin against the custom of
the service, and then this sort of accent in the mate's talk. Franklin
did not seem to expect conversational ease from the new second mate. He
made several remarks about the old, deploring the accident. Awkward.
Very awkward this thing to happen on the very eve of sailing.

"Collar-bone and arm broken," he sighed. "Sad, very sad. Did you notice
if the captain was at all affected? Eh? Must have been."

Before this congested face, these globular eyes turned yearningly upon
him, young Powell (one must keep in mind he was but a youngster then) who
could not remember any signs of visible grief, confessed with an
embarrassed laugh that, owing to the suddenness of this lucky chance
coming to him, he was not in a condition to notice the state of other
people.

"I was so pleased to get a ship at last," he murmured, further
disconcerted by the sort of pent-up gravity in Mr. Franklin's aspect.

"One man's food another man's poison," the mate remarked. "That holds
true beyond mere victuals. I suppose it didn't occur to you that it was
a dam' poor way for a good man to be knocked ou