“I don’t guess they know. I gather he hadn’t heard from her in the last three years.”
“People should be more careful about these things,” said the Major. He, himself, had been when he married the daughter of his commanding officer. She was a fine girl. Unfortunately her father had died soon after they were married. They had been happy, nevertheless.
Hodges got to his feet and said he thought he would go to the wheelhouse. He left. The Major put his book down on the floor. He was sleepy. There was something restful in the rocking motion of the ship. He yawned and stretched out on the bench.
Major Barkison awoke with a start. The ship was pitching considerably. The salon was in darkness. Outside evening and dark clouds gave a twilight coloring to the sea and sky.
He looked at his watch. It was four-thirty. In the galley he could hear Smitty cursing among the clattering pots and pans. He turned on one of the lights in the salon. The salon looked even more dismal in the pale light.
He picked the book up from the deck and tried to read it, but the motion of the ship was too much for him.
Hodges came into the salon from the after door. His face and clothes were damp from spray; there was salt matted in his hair. His face was flushed.
“I’ve been out on deck, Major,” he said, slamming the door shut. “She’s really getting rough. The Skipper told me I’d better come back inside.”
“Yes, it seems to be getting much rougher.”