Another man was not far from me, not as still as I, but moving softly and slowly to and fro. I thought it was one of the officers. If it was, it must be Mr. Brown, and I watched him covertly.
Presently a voice came out of the darkness, a voice speaking low, cultivated and courteous, as one gentleman to another.
“Does this remind you of Batavia, Mr. Brown?” It was a casual question, pleasantly put, and I saw no harm in it. It was the new man, Smith, who asked it. Why had he hit upon Batavia?
Judging by his reception of it, Mr. Brown saw nothing pleasant in the question, or in the seemingly harmless manner of the questioner. He turned sharply, and his voice was like ice.
“Batavia? No. Why should it?”
“I thought,” Smith replied, his voice showing that he was smiling, “that perhaps you might remember a pleasant evening—something like this one—that you spent there some years ago.”
Mr. Brown turned completely around toward Smith. He did not reply for an instant, but when he did—
“My man,” he said, “I do not know you. But you may as well understand me clearly. I am the second mate of this ship, and I shall do whatever seems to me necessary to maintain my position and enforce my authority. Remember that; anything whatever. Go forward.”
“Yes, sir,” said Smith. He was actually laughing, but silently. I could tell by his voice, and so could Mr. Brown, of course; but the man’s manner was perfectly respectful. “Of course you will. In your place I would do the same. You would be a fool not to, and I should say that you were never a fool.”
“Go forward,” Mr. Brown repeated curtly, “and go now.”