“I wanted to speak to you about something,” she said at last, “about
Captain Brack.”
“Yes?”
She hesitated.
“Is—is he as wonderful as he seems?”
“Captain Brack is a remarkable man,” I replied.
“I thought he was wonderful when he was speaking,” she said
falteringly. “But when he was gone I—it seemed different.”
“How different?”
“I don’t know just. I loved to listen while he was talking. But after
he’d gone I felt relieved. It frightened me a little. That’s why I
came out. What do you know about him?”
I was at loss for a reply. To tell her what I knew of Brack, of my
first sight of him in the Seattle saloon, of what I had learned aboard
the _Wanderer_, would serve to alarm her in an uncomfortable manner.
“Chanler selected him as his captain,” I said.
She gave an impatient toss to her shoulders as we walked on.
“Oh, that doesn’t mean anything. What sort of a man is he?”
“Very strong.”
“I know that.”
“Very capable.”
“Yes.”
“And entirely unscrupulous.”
She nodded her head, not in the least surprised.
“I thought so,” she said.
There was a moment of silence. We heard the murmur of waters against
our bows.
“He’s something like that,” she said, pointing out over the dark sea.
“A blind, remorseless force; isn’t he?”
“But more subtle.”
“Oh! Is he?”
“As subtle as he is strong.”
She gave a little gasp, as if she had caught herself in an error.
“I didn’t know that. I didn’t realize—I must be going in. You’ll
excuse me. Good night, Mr. Pitt. Pleasant dreams.”
Pleasant dreams! It was past one in the morning before I ceased my
troubled pacing of the _Wanderer’s_ promenade, and such sleep as
weariness finally brought to me was beset by a jumble of nightmares,
dominated by Brack’s eyes and smile.