All Big Business and that sort of thing. I must say it's nice to have someone who can talk about books, and so on, once in a while.”
Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely one. The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquette prevents his becoming familiar with his officers; small wonder if he pines occasionally for a little congenial talk to relieve his mind.
“Big Business, did you say?” Gissing remarked. “Ah, I could write you quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of Beagle and Company.”
“Come into my cabin and have a liqueur,” said the skipper. “Let the essay go until to-morrow.”
The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the night was cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were little chintz curtains; over the bunk was a convenient reading lamp. On the wall a brass pendulum swung slowly, registering the roll of the ship. The ruddy shine of the stove lit up the orderly desk and the photographs of the Captain's family.
“Yours?” said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with droll Scottish faces.
