"What do you mean?"
The doctor did not answer. His countenance, expressive for a moment, was now reserved. His eyes became vacuous. He did not appear to hear the skipper's wondering question. He was now attending to his own monologue. His lips let fall, as if mechanically, in a low murmuring tone, these words,—
"The time has come for sullied souls to purify themselves."
The skipper made that expressive grimace which raises the chin towards the nose.
"He is more madman than sage," he growled, and moved off.
Nevertheless he steered west.
But the wind and the sea were rising.