I will merely state that, in my opinion, to get his sickly crew into
the sea air and secure a quick despatch for his ship a skipper would be
justified in going to any length, short of absolute crime. He should
put his pride in his pocket; he may accept confidences; explain his
innocence as if it were a sin; he may take advantage of misconceptions,
of desires and of weaknesses; he ought to conceal his horror and other
emotions, and, if the fate of a human being, and that human being
a magnificent young girl, is strangely involved--why, he should
contemplate that fate (whatever it might seem to be) without turning a
hair. And all these things I have done; the explaining, the listening,
the pretending--even to the discretion--and nobody, not even Hermann's
niece, I believe, need throw stones at me now. Schomberg at all events
needn't, since from first to last, I am happy to say, there was not the
slightest "fracas."

Overcoming a nervous contraction of the windpipe, I had managed to
exclaim "Captain Falk!" His start of surprise was perfectly genuine, but
afterwards he neither smiled nor scowled. He simply waited. Then, when
I had said, "I must have a talk with you," and had pointed to a chair
at my table, he moved up to me, though he didn't sit down. Schomberg,
however, with a long tumbler in his hand, was making towards us
prudently, and I discovered then the only sign of weakness in Falk. He
had for Schomberg a repulsion resembling that sort of physical fear
some people experience at the sight of a toad. Perhaps to a man so
essentially and silently concentrated upon himself (though he could talk
well enough, as I was to find out presently) the other's irrepressible
loquacity, embracing every human being within range of the tongue, might
have appeared unnatural, disgusting, and monstrous. He suddenly gave
signs of restiveness--positively like a horse about to rear, and,
muttering hurriedly as if in great pain, "No. I can't stand that