Evans looked over at the man on watch. He was still leaning out the window, his shoulders heaving. At last he turned around. He was pale but seemed relieved. “I guess I’m O.K. now,” he said.
Evans stepped away from the wheel. “You sure you’re not going to get sick again?”
“Yeah, I’m all right.” The man took the wheel. Evans gave him the course. Then Evans walked to the port side where Bervick sat watching the water. He was daydreaming. His eyes were fixed on the sea.
In silence they looked out the windows. Except for an occasional sound of creaking from the bow, there was no sound to be heard in the ship. The wheelhouse was getting too warm, Evans thought. He unbuttoned his shirt. His hands shook a little as he did. This annoyed him.
“Getting warm, Skipper?”
“It’s too hot in here. The Chief’s really got the heat going fine. When we really need it in port he breaks something.”
“Engine rooms are always like that. I’m glad I’m not an engineer.”
The clock struck three bells. Evans looked at his watch. He always did that when the clock struck.
“When do you figure we’ll be off Ilak?” Bervick asked.
“Just about two hours. Just about seven-thirty.”