Through the after door he watched the white wake foaming. The wind appeared confused: blowing from first one direction and then shifting to another. There was snow in the clouds overhead.
The ship was tossed about like a stick in a river current. But somehow they managed to keep on course. The Chief tried not to think of this. He thought instead of a gauge on the starboard engine, but even that was too close to the storm. He turned and went back to the Chaplain and Hodges. Religious talk was soothing if nothing else.
He asked O’Mahoney about his monastery. O’Mahoney was happy to talk of it.
“A very simple place. There’s really not much to tell. We all have our different jobs.”
“What sort of work did you do?” asked Hodges.
“Well, I was in charge of the novices. Those are the beginners, the apprentices.”
“Sounds like a First Sergeant’s job,” said Hodges.
“Very much the same. I wish,” said the Chaplain wistfully, “that I was back in Maryland now.”
“So do I,” agreed Duval. “In New Orleans, I mean. I’m tired of this place.”
“We all are, but here we are. You have a wife, I suppose, in New Orleans?”