In all that I have written of the Algonquin incident, I have tried to portray Kingsford correctly. I don't know yet as I have succeeded. He was almost a complete recluse aboard ship. I virtually commanded, as he had predicted during our first conversation. When I did see him, it was to deliver routine reports on the ship and crew, but I began to observe that even these reports did not particularly interest him. He had stopped shaving and had grown a long, very full dark beard. That, together with the eye patch, gave him the look of a very ancient mystic. He was always reading when I entered his cabin. His readings were restricted to the writings of St. Augustine, The City Of God I believe the volume was, and one or another of the first books of the Old Testament. After about nine months of my routine monologues, I stopped reporting altogether, and didn't see him for about three weeks. Nor did I receive any summons from him.
Then, during one of my periods of watch in the control room, I received a signal to report to the Captain's cabin. I entered, observed that despite his solitude the cabin and every accessory was in perfect order, nothing out of place. I knew that he allowed no orderly to enter the cabin, and yet there was no evidence that here was a man who was virtually a prisoner of his own choosing. We spoke for many hours that time. He asked about my past, my period of retirement, my reading habits, what I had read and what I thought of these readings. The conversation was limited almost entirely to myself, but Kingsford as an entity began to emerge for the first time since I had met him. He was altogether friendly. He wanted to know whether I was familiar with the Bible. When I said I was, he asked which section interested me most. I told him Ecclesiastes.
"Why Ecclesiastes, Mr. Rogers?"
"Well, because it seems to pretty well sum up all of life."
"There is far more to all of life than just vanity," he said.
"There is also far more to Ecclesiastes than just vanity," I said. "But I do imagine one could speak of purposes in life, and all of that. But aren't these in themselves a sort of vanity? Actually, we're not put here for any real reason. I don't think so, anyway. I've always felt that man is quite the master of his own destiny."
"And yet, Mr. Rogers, here you are," he said, smiling now, "aboard the Algonquin, after having quite conclusively decided that a life of grace and leisure was your true destiny. Do you not believe that perhaps your whole life was destined for that of a space officer? Perhaps molded from the very moment you were born to serve as my Executive Officer during this expedition?"
"I prefer to believe that I had stronger politics with Anglo-Galactic than the others who were after this berth."
"Do you really? Well, that's interesting enough. And tell me, Mr. Rogers, what of the crew? Do they still hold your faith to the last man?"
"I've seen enough men in enough situations to know that one cannot vouch for every man, even for himself, Captain. I still believe they are a good enough crew, yes."