“He gets in my hair. He gets in my business.”
“For Christ’s sake!” Evans exploded. “Can’t you forget about that bitch? Can’t you figure that there’re a lot more where that one came from? What’s wrong with you anyway?”
Bervick gestured. “I guess I just been up here too long. I guess that’s what’s the matter.”
Evans was tired now. “Sure, that’s it. That’s what’s wrong with all of us. We been to sea too long.” Evans knew as well as Bervick the truth of this. After living too long in close quarters with the same fifteen or twenty men, one began to think and do irrational things. Women were scarce and perhaps it was normal that Bervick should feel so strongly. He watched Bervick as he fiddled with the dividers on the chart. He was a good man to have around. Evans liked his second mate.
“How’s the barometer doing now?” asked Evans.
Bervick looked at it, twisting his hair as he did. “About the same. Bit lower, maybe.”
Evans grunted. A mile ahead he could make out a long black spit of rock and stone and reef. As they approached it he changed the course. First five degrees to port, then ten, then they were around the point. The end of the island, some fifteen miles away, came clearly into view. This island was a big one and mountainous. In the clear but indirect light he could see the white peaks that marked the westernmost cape. Because of the size of the volcanic peaks the shore looked closer than it was.
“Sky’s still dark,” said Bervick. Evans noticed his mate’s eyes were the color of the sea water. He had never noticed that before. It was an unusual thing, Evans thought, but having lived so long with Bervick he never really looked at him and probably could not have described him. Evans looked back at the sky.
“Still bad looking. I don’t like it so much. Still we’re keeping pretty close to shore. We can hide fast.”
“Sure would delay us if something did blow up.”