“A little lower,” he remarked.
Evans looked at it, too. “Yes, the thing’s fallen some more.” He went to the chart table and recorded the barometer’s reading in the logbook.
“When’s the wind going to start?” Martin asked.
“Can’t tell yet, John,” Bervick said. “Around midnight, that’s my guess.”
“How’re the passengers?” asked Evans.
“They’re pretty bothered. The Chaplain’s sick as a dog.”
“Where’d the Major go when he left here?”
“He went to his cabin. I guess he’s in the sack.”
Evans frowned. “I wanted them to stay in the salon. You should have kept them there. Suppose he comes walking down the deck and a wave knocks him overboard?”
“That’s an act of God,” snapped Martin. For some reason Evans was pleased to have irritated his Mate. “Besides,” Martin added, “he’d already gone when I went below.”