“Just an old custom, I suppose. Let’s hope there’s nothing to it.”
“There isn’t.”
They were approaching another cape and Evans gave the man at the wheel a new course.
“Have you been in this business long, Mr Evans?”
“Been at sea long? Well, most of my life, since I was sixteen.”
“Really? It must be fascinating.” The Major spoke without conviction.
“Yes, it’s been a pretty good deal. Sometimes, though, I wish I’d gone to West Point.” On an impulse he added this, knowing that it would interest the older man. It did.
“Did you have the opportunity?” he asked.
“In a way. You see the Congressman from our district was a good friend of my uncle who was married to my mother’s sister, and I think he could have swung it. I know I used to think about it, but I went to sea instead.”
“You made a great mistake,” said the Major sadly, “a very great mistake.” He looked out the window as if to behold the proof of the mistake in the rolling sea. Mechanically he made his profile appear hawk-like and military ... like Wellington. Evans smiled to himself. He had seen a little of the regular army people and he thought them all alike. To parade around in uniform and live on an uncomfortable army post, to play poker and gossip; that was all of the world to them, he thought. The life wasn’t bad, of course, but one was not one’s own boss and there was not, naturally, the sea. The life seemed dull to him.