Everything was ordered, controlled. She was doing
what he ordained her to do, and, no matter what storm-Titans bellowed
about her and buffeted her, she would continue to do what he ordained
her to do.
I glanced into the chart-room. There he sat, leaned back in a screw-
chair, his sea-booted legs, wedged against the settee, holding him in
place in the most violent rolls. His black oilskin coat glistened in
the lamplight with a myriad drops of ocean that advertised a recent
return from deck. His sou'wester, black and glistening, was like the
helmet of some legendary hero. He was smoking a cigar, and he smiled
and greeted me. But he seemed very tired and very old--old with
wisdom, however, not weakness. The flesh of his face, the pink
pigment quite washed and worn away, was more transparent than ever;
and yet never was he more serene, never more the master absolute of
our tiny, fragile world. The age that showed in him was not a matter
of terrestrial years. It was ageless, passionless, beyond human.
Never had he appeared so great to me, so far remote, so much a spirit
visitant.
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