"One does not always like to let others see the shifts to which one has to resort," was all the answer he gave me.
But I worried over it. The thing bothered me, because he had made no attempt to explain.
That was not the only thing I noticed.
Two or three days later we were sitting together on deck. I had offered to read to him. I noticed that he got up out of his chair. Suddenly I saw the chair move. It gave me a great shock, for the chair twisted apparently of its own volition, so that when he sat down again the sunlight was at his back and not in his eyes, as I knew it had been previously. But I reasoned with myself and managed to satisfy myself that he must have turned the chair round with his foot. It was just possible that he could have done so, for it had one of those light wicker-work seats.
We had a lovely voyage for three-quarters of the way, and the sea was as calm as any duck-pond. But that was all altered when we passed Cape Finisterre. I have done a lot of knocking about on the ocean one way and another, but I never saw the Bay of Biscay deserve its reputation better.
I'd much rather see what is going on than be cooped up below, and after lunch I told Bob I was going up on deck.
"I'll only stay there for a bit," I said. "You make yourself comfortable down here."
I filled his pipe, put it in his mouth, and gave him a match; then I left him.
I made my way up and down the deck for a time, clutching hold of everything handy, and rather enjoyed it, though the waves drenched me to the skin.
Presently I saw Masters come out of the companion-way and make his way very skilfully towards me. Of course it was fearfully dangerous for him.