The captain smiled, a mirthless smile that might have been a setting of his teeth.
“I should think so,” he said, with an air of definite certainty, as if answering question about a harbour he knew blindfolded. “And if you haven’t, I’ll give you a bit of advice: take it by the horns straight away; don’t wait on the defensive, attack at once. There’s this about it: when luck favours a man, and he’s sound enough not to get spoiled by it at once, sure enough, Fate will try to get a foot on his neck.”
He stretched out his left hand towards Ormarr, showing the index finger missing, and went on:
“It cost me that. I was a deck hand on a fishing-boat at the time, though I knew the sea, and had many a rough turn with it, and saved more than one from drowning. And that’s a thing the sea won’t forgive. One day I was alone on the foredeck, getting the anchor ready, when there was a hitch in the cable. And then a thing happened that I’ve never known before or since—my feet slipped sheer away from under me, as if some one had pulled them. I came down headlong, and the anchor tore away to the bottom of the sea, taking me with it. My finger was caught between two links of the cable—there was no getting it free. I thought to myself, ‘Not this time, anyway,’ and managed to get at my knife, and hacked it off. It didn’t seem to hurt much while I was in the water—but when I came up—the men—believe me or not, as you will, but they started back when they saw my face. I hurried down below—I had a sort of feeling what it was. And I tell you, sir, there was the mark of death in my face when I looked; the mark Fate puts on a man before handing him over. And it was twenty-four hours before it passed off.”
Captain Jantzen laughed.
“Since then, Fate’s left me alone. Maybe she never found out how I’d cheated her. And if she has forgotten, why, maybe I shall live to be an old man after all.” And as if repenting his levity, the little captain became serious once more.
“All the same, it’s not right to joke about that sort of thing.”
Ormarr had listened with interest to the captain’s story. When he had finished, he was silent for a moment, then asked:
“How long have you been captain of ‘Bjørnen,’ Captain Jantzen?”
“Why, it’ll be twelve years this spring.” And in a tone of some resignation he went on: