“You’ll find few to take on land what they take at sea,” said the mate.
The Captain smiled. “Aye, the sea’s rough. Maybe there’s no need of so much roughness on land.” And he added, looking at Red: “It’s like you’ll have the ship when I step out, Red.”
Red looked swiftly toward where Spiess was working; but Black Pawl did not mark the glance. “It’s like,” Red agreed curtly.
Black Pawl turned then and considered his son with thoughtful eyes; and at last he said: “Red, I’ve been thinking. You and I have not always jibed as father and son should jibe.”
Red looked at his father silently.
“I’m sorry for that, son,” said Black Pawl. “It’s not a fitting thing. Like it’s been mostly my fault, too. I’ve not been all to you that I should, not led you as wisely as I should. I’m sorry for these things, Red Pawl.”
There was no softness in Red’s voice when he replied. “I’ve no whines to make,” he said. “I can hold my end—against any man.”
“I’m sorry we—fought, a space ago,” said Black Pawl gently.
“We’ll not fight again,” said Black Pawl, “—not my son and I. I say, Red, that for every wrong I’ve done you, I’m sorry this day.”