had owned ships; and even the years
of his actual retirement from the sea had been made bearable by the idea
that he had only to stretch out his hand full of money to get a ship. He
had been at liberty to feel as though he were the owner of all the
ships in the world. The selling of this one was weary work; but when
she passed from him at last, when he signed the last receipt, it was as
though all the ships had gone out of the world together, leaving him on
the shore of inaccessible oceans with seven hundred pounds in his hands.

Striding firmly, without haste, along the quay, Captain Whalley averted
his glances from the familiar roadstead. Two generations of seamen born
since his first day at sea stood between him and all these ships at the
anchorage. His own was sold, and he had been asking himself, What next?

From the feeling of loneliness, of inward emptiness,--and of loss
too, as if his very soul had been taken out of him forcibly,--there had
sprung at first a desire to start right off and join his daughter.
"Here are the last pence," he would say to her; "take them, my dear. And
here's your old father: you must take him too."

His soul recoiled, as if afraid of what lay hidden at the bottom of
this impulse. Give up! Never! When one is thoroughly weary all sorts of
nonsense come into one's head. A pretty gift it would have been for a
poor woman--this seven hundred pounds with the incumbrance of a hale old
fellow more than likely to last for years and years to come. Was he not
as fit to die in harness as any of the youngsters in charge of these
anchored ships out yonder? He was as solid now as ever he had been. But
as to who would give him work to do, that was another matter. Were he,
with his appearance and antecedents, to go about looking for a junior's
berth, people, he was afraid, would not take him seriously; or else if
he succeeded in impressing them, he would maybe obtain their pity, which
would be like stripping yourself naked to be kicked. He was not anxious
to give himself away for less than nothing. He had no use for anybody's
pity. On the other hand, a command--the only thing he could try for with
due regard for common decency--was not likely to be lying in wait
for him at the corner of the next street. Commands don't go a-begging
nowadays. Ever since he had come ashore to carry out the business of
the sale he had kept his ears open, but had heard no hint of one being
vacant in the port. And even if th