it seems as
though he were annoyed at being interrupted in some arduous mental
operation; and as I emerge on deck the ordered arrangement of the stars
meets my eye, unclouded, infinitely wearisome. There they are: stars,
sun, sea, light, darkness, space, great waters; the formidable Work of
the Seven Days, into which mankind seems to have blundered unbidden.
Or else decoyed. Even as I have been decoyed into this awful, this
death-haunted command. . . ."

*****

The only spot of light in the ship at night was that of the
compass-lamps, lighting up the faces of the succeeding helmsmen; for the
rest we were lost in the darkness, I walking the poop and the men lying
about the decks. They were all so reduced by sickness that no watches
could be kept. Those who were able to walk remained all the time on
duty, lying about in the shadows of the main deck, till my voice raised
for an order would bring them to their enfeebled feet, a tottering
little group, moving patiently about the ship, with hardly a murmur, a
whisper amongst them all. And every time I had to raise my voice it was
with a pang of remorse and pity.

Then about four o'clock in the morning a light would gleam forward in
the galley. The unfailing Ransome with the uneasy heart, immune,
serene, and active, was getting ready for the early coffee for the men.
Presently he would bring me a cup up on the poop, and it was then that I
allowed myself to drop into my deck chair for a couple of hours of real
sleep. No doubt I must have been snatching short dozes when leaning
against the rail for a moment in sheer exhaustion; but, honestly, I was
not aware of them, except in the painful form of convulsive starts that
seemed to come on me even while I walked. From about five, however,
until after seven I would sleep openly under the fading stars.

I would say to the helmsman: "Call me at need," and drop into that chair
and close my eyes, feeling that there was no more sleep for me on earth.
And then I would know nothing till, some time between seven and eight,
I would feel a touch on my shoulder and look up at Ransome's face, with
its faint, wistful smile and friendly, gray eyes, as though he were
tenderly amused at my slumbers. Occasionally the second mate would come
up and relieve me at early coffee time. But it didn't really matter.
Generally it was a dead calm, or else faint airs so changing and
fugitive that it really wasn't worth while to touch a brace for them.
If t