It took only a few
seconds to tell what had happened the preceding night, without going
into details. The captain's hand was on Alan's arm when he finished,
and the flesh under his fingers was rigid and hard as steel.
"We'll talk with Rossland after the boats return," he said.
He drew Alan from the room and closed the door.
Not until he had reentered his own cabin did Alan realize he still held
the crushed shoe in his hand. He placed it on his bed and dressed. It
took him only a few minutes. Then he went aft and found the captain.
Half an hour later the first boat returned. Five minutes after that, a
second came in. And then a third. Alan stood back, alone, while the
passengers crowded the rail. He knew what to expect. And the murmur of
it came to him--failure! It was like a sob rising softly out of the
throats of many people. He drew away. He did not want to meet their
eyes, or talk with them, or hear the things they would be saying. And as
he went, a moan came to his lips, a strangled cry filled with an agony
which told him he was breaking down. He dreaded that. It was the first
law of his kind to stand up under blows, and he fought against the
desire to reach out his arms to the sea and entreat Mary Standish to
rise up out of it and forgive him.
He drove himself on like a mechanical thing.
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