“Very good.” Toby saw Ordith, and greeted him as if almost surprised by his presence. “Hullo Ordith.... Poor fellow! gone down like a stone. They’ll never find him.... Fool to stand there—damned fool! Oh well!”
“Head off?” said Ordith, pointing to the now covered body.
“Nearly.... Good seaman, that. Wife and three children.”
Ordith turned for’ard as Toby left him on his way to the bridge. “Five minutes later, might have been me.... This valuable head,” he added, a little shaken. “And Aggett rummaging my cabin.” He patted his pockets. “By Jove! left the keys, too.” Then, suddenly perceiving Cunwell, he gripped his arm. “Don’t care for Aggett,” he said confidentially; “do you?”
He returned to his deck-chair.
“Wonder if we can help Toby at all?... No.”
He moved his shoulders as if adjusting the set of a coat, opened his cigarette-case and shut it again with a snap.
“Oh well!” He sighed, leaned back, interlaced his fingers behind his valuable head, and, because the sun was strong, tilted his cap over his eyes.
II
That evening two Wardroom Officers came into the Gunroom to play poker. At the end of the table which the game left free, John sat down to write his letter. He had been too near to death that afternoon to waste more time.