Evans shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
“We were going to do that anyway,” said the Chief sourly and he left the table, his assistants close behind.
Evans wondered why he had so much trouble getting along with his crews. When he had been a second mate on a cargo ship he had had no trouble, in fact he had even been popular. Somehow things just didn’t work as easily aboard this ship. He wondered if he might not be too much of a perfectionist. People didn’t like to live with that sort of thing. He spun his coffee mug between his hands. Finally he stood up. “Smitty,” he said loudly. “You can clear the table now.”
Bervick had the case off the barometer, when Evans returned to the wheelhouse. Bervick and Martin were examining the mechanism.
“Find anything wrong?” asked Evans.
Bervick shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with it. The thing’s in good order.” Evans frowned. He did not like to think of what would happen if this reading were correct. He went to the chart table.
They would be off Kulak around one o’clock in the afternoon. Between his present position and Kulak there was open sea and no protection. He felt suddenly sick. Without a word to the others he walked out on deck.
The air was cool and moist. There was no wind and no sign of wind. Dark clouds hung motionless in the air. He felt the vastness of this sea and the loneliness of one small boat on the dividing line between gray sky and gray water. They were quite alone out here and he was the only one who realized it. This was very sad, and feeling sad and lonely he went back into the wheelhouse.
Martin and Bervick had gone below, he was told by the man at the wheel.
Evans stood by the window on the port side and watched Ilak disappear. Snow, coming from the west, he noticed, was bringing wind with it. He closed the windows.