Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely one. The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquette prevents his becoming familiar with his officers; small wonder if he pines occasionally for a little congenial talk to relieve his mind.
“Big Business, did you say?” Gissing remarked. “Ah, I could write you quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of Beagle and Company.”
“Come into my cabin and have a liqueur,” said the skipper. “Let the essay go until to-morrow.”
The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the night was cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were little chintz curtains; over the bunk was a convenient reading lamp. On the wall a brass pendulum swung slowly, registering the roll of the ship. The ruddy shine of the stove lit up the orderly desk and the photographs of the Captain's family.
“Yours?” said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with droll Scottish faces. “Aye,” said the Captain.
“I've three of my own,” said Gissing, with a private pang of homesickness. The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly domestic he had seen since the evening he first fled from responsibility.
Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger in the badly damaged wedding garments had not given the impression of a family head. Just then the steward entered with a decanter of Benedictine and small glasses.
“Brew days and bonny!” said the Captain, raising his crystal.
“Secure amidst perils!” replied Gissing courteously. It was the phrase engraved upon the ship's notepaper, on which he had been writing, and it had impressed itself on his mind.
“You said you had been a General Manager.”
Gissing told, with some vivacity, of his experiences in the world of trade. The Captain poured another small liqueur.
“Sincerely yours,” said Gissing, nodding over the glass. He was beginning to feel quite at home in the navigating quarters of the ship, and hoped the potato-peeling might be postponed as long as possible.
“How far had you got in your essay?” asked the Captain.
“Not very far, I fear. I was beginning by laying down a few psychological fundamentals.”
Gissing went to get his manuscript, and read it aloud. The Captain listened attentively, puffing clouds of smoke.