Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be.
Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He pointed to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels.
“You see,” he said, “there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But look here.”
He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen which was lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's surprise it burned steadily, without blowing out.
“I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just forward of the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the stiffest gale, without any trouble.”
On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright, persuasive sound.
“Six bells,” the Captain said. “I must dress for dinner. Before I start you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little discussion of ours about Free Will. One or two things you said interested me.”
He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard.
“I'll test your sincerity,” he said. “To-night
