Turning from the fireplace of such evil associations, he lighted the ship’s lamp that hung above it. He sat down at the desk, opened a drawer and took out two photographs. These he studied a few minutes, with the lamp-light on his white hair, his venerable beard, his heavy features. Closely he inspected the photographs.
One was a group, showing himself with the family that once had been, but now had almost ceased to be. The other was a portrait of Hal. Carefully the old man observed this picture, taken but a year ago, noting the fine, broad forehead, the powerful shoulders, the strength of the face that looked out so frankly at him. For the first time he perceived a quality in this face he had never seen before—the undertone of arrogant power, born of unbeaten physical strength.
The captain shook his head with infinite sadness.
“That’s the real curse that lay on me,” he murmured. “That’s what I’ve got to pay for now. Well, so be it.”
He kissed both pictures tenderly, and put them back into the drawer. From it he took a box, and from the box a revolver—an old revolver, the very same that he had carried in the _Silver Fleece_ fifty long years ago.
“You’ve done very great evil,” said Alpheus Briggs slowly. “Now you’re going to pay for it by doing at least one good act. That’s justice. God is being very good to me, showing me the way.”
He broke open the revolver, spun the cylinder and snapped the hammer two or three times.
“It’s all right,” judged he. “This is an important job. It mustn’t be made a mess of.”
He looked for and found a few cartridges, and carefully loaded the weapon, then snapped it shut, and laid it on the desk. The sound of Dr. Filhiol, coming with another cane along the hall, caused him to slide the gun into the drawer. Filhiol knocked at the door, and Briggs arose to open it. He showed no signs of perturbation. A calm serenity glowed in his eyes.
“Isn’t it time you got your writing finished and went to bed?” the doctor demanded tartly.
“Almost time. I’m just finishing up. I sha’n’t be long now. Tell me, how’s Ruddy?”
“We’ve made a fair job of it, and Ezra’s gone to his room. He’s taking everything terribly to heart. Anything I can do for you?”
The captain’s hand enfolded Filhiol’s. Neither by any undue pressure nor by word did he give the doctor any hint of the fact that this good-by was final. The old doctor turned and very wearily stumped away up-stairs. Briggs turned back into his cabin.