'You're hard upon the calling, Glew. You're talking to a man who has had to work hard and fare hard.'
'Sir, if you'd been in command, you'd know that I speak the truth.'
'Aren't you rather a taut hand, Glew? Not that I object to a strict discipline on board ship; but there is a manner of talking to sailors.... I've heard of a captain who never would address a sailor if he could help it, but if he had anything to give him he'd put it down upon the deck and kick it at him.'
'And I've heard of sailors, sir, who've scuttled their ship, broken the captain's heart by ruining the voyage, and made a widow of his wife by sending him adrift in an open boat. I've had charge of seamen, and I know their natures, and I'm sorry that you should think I'm a taut hand, sir.'
'Understand me,' said Vanderholt soothingly: 'you are, perhaps, a taut hand, but I do not say unnecessarily taut. Frankly, I do not think the men love you.'
'What's a sailor's love like?' said Captain Glew.
Here Miss Vanderholt came on deck. Captain Glew placed a chair for her beside her father.
'What a heavenly sweet and silent night!' exclaimed the young lady. 'Is that a ship on fire down there?'
'It's the moon rising, miss,' exclaimed Captain Glew.
Her upper limb floated blood-red on the sea-line like a glowing ember. She sailed up, large, swollen, stately, the face rusty, as though the luminary had been a mighty casting in the African sands, and was now sent aloft red-hot by some thrust of giant shoulders. At her coming the wind freshened in a damp gust, the schooner strained, and the sound arose of water broken quickly into froth.