The _Nathan Ross_ changed course that day; and the word went around the
ship. It passed from man to man. There was whispering; and there were
dark looks, flung toward Joel.
Joel kept the deck all day, silent, and watchful, and waiting. Mark spoke
to him once or twice, asking what he meant to do. Joel told him nothing.
He had fought out his fight the night before; he knew himself....
Mark and Finch talked together, during the morning. Joel watched them
without comment. Later he saw Mark speak to the other mates, one by one.
At dinner in the cabin, the mates were silent. Their eyes had something
of shame in them, and something of venomous hate.... They already hated
Joel, whom they planned to wrong....
The day was fair, and the wind drove them smoothly. There was no work to
be done, never a spout on the sea. Joel, watching once or twice the
whispering groups of idle men, wished a whale might be sighted; and once
he sent Morrell and Varde to find tasks for the men to do, and kept them
at it through the long afternoon, scraping, scrubbing, painting....
Priss kept to her cabin. When she did not appear at breakfast, Joel went
to her door and knocked. She called to him: "I've a headache. I'm going
to rest." He ordered that food be sent to her....
He stayed on deck till late, that night; but with the coming of night the
ship had grown quiet, and most of the men were below in the fo'c's'le. So
at last Joel left the deck to Varde, and went below. He sat down at his
desk and wrote up the day's log....
Priss came to him there. She had been in bed; and she wore a heavy
dressing gown over her night garments. Her hair was braided, hanging
across her shoulders. She sat down beside the desk, and when Joel could
fight back the misery in his eyes, he looked toward her and asked:
"Is your head--better?"