"It was the story that had been already told to the boarding officer
an hour or so before. The commanding officer nodded slightly at the
Northman from time to time. The latter came to an end and turned his
eyes away. He added, as an afterthought:

"'Wasn't it enough to drive a man out of his mind with worry? And it's my
first voyage to this part, too. And the ship's my own. Your officer has
seen the papers. She isn't much, as you can see for yourself. Just an
old cargo-boat. Bare living for my family.'

"He raised a big arm to point at a row of photographs plastering the
bulkhead. The movement was ponderous, as if the arm had been made of
lead. The commanding officer said, carelessly:

"'You will be making a fortune yet for your family with this old ship.'

"'Yes, if I don't lose her,' said the Northman, gloomily.

"'I mean--out of this war,' added the commanding officer.

"The Northman stared at him in a curiously unseeing and at the same time
interested manner, as only eyes of a particular blue shade can stare.

"'And you wouldn't be angry at it,' he said, 'would you? You are too
much of a gentleman. We didn't bring this on you. And suppose we sat
down and cried. What good would that be? Let those cry who made
the trouble,' he concluded, with energy. 'Time's money, you say.
Well--_this_ time _is_ money. Oh! isn't it!'

"The commanding officer tried to keep under the feeling of immense