ng away in a most
incomprehensible and surprising manner earlier in the day, and the end of
the chain whipping round the coaming and shivering to bits the coloured
glass-pane at the end of the skylight. It had the arms of the city of
Liverpool on it; I don't know why unless because the _Ferndale_ was
registered in Liverpool. It was very thick plate glass. Anyhow, the
upper part got smashed, and directly we had attended to things aloft Mr.
Franklin had set the carpenter to patch up the damage with some pieces of
plain glass. I don't know where they got them; I think the people who
fitted up new bookcases in the captain's room had left some spare panes.
Chips was there the whole afternoon on his knees, messing with putty and
red-lead. It wasn't a neat job when it was done, not by any means, but
it would serve to keep the weather out and let the light in. Clear
glass. And of course I was not thinking of it. I just stooped to pick
up that rope and found my head within three inches of that clear glass,
and--dash it all! I found myself out. Not half an hour before I was
saying to myself that it was impossible to tell what was in people's
heads or at the back of their talk, or what they were likely to be up to.
And here I found myself up to as low a trick as you can well think of.
For, after I had stooped, there I remained prying, spying, anyway
looking, where I had no business to look. Not consciously at first, may
be. He who has eyes, you know, nothing can stop him from seeing things
as long as there are things to see in front of him. What I saw at first
was the end of the table and the tray clamped on to it, a patent tray for
sea use, fitted with holders for a couple of decanters, water-jug and
glasses. The glitter of these things caught my eye first; but what I saw
next was the captain down there, alone as far as I could see; and I could
see pretty well the whole of that part up to the cottage piano, dark
against the satin-wood panelling of the bulkhead. And I remained
looking. I did. And I don't know that I was ashamed of myself either,
then. It was the fault of that Franklin, always talking of the man,
making free with him to that extent that really he seemed to have become
our property, his and mine, in a way. It's funny, but one had that
feeling about Captain Anthony. To watch him was not so much worse than
listening to Franklin talking him over. Well, it's no use making excuses
for what's inexcusabl