The captain went and walked in the waist with brief irate turns; Herrick leaned his arms on the taffrail; the crew had all turned in. The ship had a gentle, cradling motion; at times a block piped like a bird. On shore, through the colonnade of palm stems, Attwater’s house was to be seen shining steadily with many lamps. And there was nothing else visible, whether in the heaven above or in the lagoon below, but the stars and their reflections. It might have been minutes, or it might have been hours, that Herrick leaned there, looking in the glorified water and drinking peace. “A bath of stars,” he was thinking; when a hand was laid at last on his shoulder.
“Herrick,” said the captain, “I’ve been walking off my trouble.”
A sharp jar passed through the young man, but he neither answered nor so much as turned his head.
“I guess I spoke a little rough to you on shore,” pursued the captain; “the fact is, I was real mad; but now it’s over, and you and me have to turn to and think.”
“I will not think,” said Herrick.
“Here, old man!” said Davis kindly; “this won’t fight, you know! You’ve got to brace up and help me get things straight. You’re not going back on a friend? That’s not like you, Herrick!”
“O yes, it is,” said Herrick.
“Come, come!” said the captain, and paused as if quite at a loss. “Look here,” he cried, “you have a glass of champagne. I won’t touch it, so that’ll show you if I’m in earnest. But it’s just the pick-me-up for you; it’ll put an edge on you at once.”
“O, you leave me alone!” said Herrick, and turned away.
The captain caught him by the sleeve; and he shook him off and turned on him, for the moment like a demoniac.