Evans walked slowly about the wheelhouse. “That wind’s a lot stronger outside,” he said suddenly.
Martin was surprised. “I don’t think so. I think you’re wrong.”
“Don’t tell me I’m wrong,” Evans flared. Martin said nothing; he had seen Evans upset before. Sometimes he acted oddly. “Weather’s changing,” said Evans more quietly. “I can feel it. Look,” he pointed to the island, “the snow’s thinning. That means the wind’s picked up. Besides, feel the sea.”
Martin noticed for the first time that the ship was tossing much more than it had an hour before. He had been daydreaming and had not noticed the gradual change.
Evans opened one of the windows and the familiar roar of wind and water filled the wheelhouse. Snowflakes flew in and melted quickly, leaving wet marks on the deck.
The snow flurries were disappearing and every moment the shores of the island became clearer. The sea was large though not yet dangerous.
“I don’t like it,” said Evans.
“Barometer’s still low,” said Martin helpfully.
“I know. Did we nest that boom, the one on the port side?”
“We did it last night, remember?”