To me she was much like--someone--a long time dead. That's why I
broke ship's regulations when she came aboard so strangely at Seattle,
without reservation. I'm sorry now. I should have sent her ashore. But
she is gone, and it is best that you and I keep to ourselves a little of
what we guess. I hope you will find her, and if you do--"
"I shall send you word."
They shook hands, and Captain Rifle's fingers still held to Alan's as
they went to the door and opened it. A swift change had come in the sky.
The stars were gone, and a moaning whisper hovered over the
darkened sea.
"A thunder-storm," said the captain.
His mastery was gone, his shoulders bent, and there was a tremulous note
in his voice that compelled Alan to look straight out into darkness. And
then he said,
"Rossland will be sent to the hospital in Cordova, if he lives."
Alan made no answer. The door closed softly behind him, and slowly he
went through gloom to the rail of the ship, and stood there, with the
whispered moaning of the sea coming to him out of a pit of darkness. A
vast distance away he heard a low intonation of thunder.
He struggled to keep hold of himself as he returned to his cabin.
Stampede Smith was waiting for him, his dunnage packed in an oilskin
bag. Alan explained the unexpected change in his plans.
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