“I guess I never really wanted to be a minister very much.” Evans ran his hand through his hair. He noticed it was getting long. He would have a haircut when they got to Arunga.
“Some, I suppose,” said the Chaplain philosophically, “are chosen, while others are not.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” said Evans with more emphasis than was necessary.
The Chaplain squinted his eyes and took a deep breath and Evans could see that he was going to be lectured. He stood up and the Chaplain, looking surprised, opened his eyes again and exhaled, a slight look of disappointment on his face.
“If you’ll excuse me I’m going up top. My watch’s now.”
“Of course, certainly.”
Bervick was standing by the windows, looking out. Evans stood beside him and they watched the sea together. The dark water shifted lazily now, gusts of wind occasionally ruffling the surface of the water. The night sky was black.
“You been asleep?”
Evans nodded.
“That’s what I thought. Martin hit the sack.”