Things on the seas were going to the devil! He moved down to the library,
where he lighted a cheroot and addressed himself to the _Gazette_; but
his restlessness increased: the paper drooped and his thoughts turned to
Gerrit as a small boy. He saw him leaving home, for the first time, to go
to the school at Andover, in a cloth cap with a glazed peak, striped long
pantaloons and blue coat and waistcoat; later at the high desk in the
counting-rooms of Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone; then sailing as
supercargo on one of the Company's ships to Russia and Liverpool. He had
soon dropped such clerking for seamen's duties, and his rise to
mastership had been rapid.

Rhoda, William's wife, entered and stood before him accusingly. "You are
worrying again," she declared; "in here all by yourself. It really seems
as if you didn't believe in our interest or affection. I have a feeling,
and you know they are always right, that Gerrit will sail into the harbor
any day now."

He had always liked Rhoda, a large handsome woman with rich coloring--her
countenance somehow reminded him of an apricot--and fine clothes. She
paused, studied him for a moment, and then asked, "Was your call on
Captain Dunsack pleasant?"

"It ought to have been," he confided, "but I got mad and talked like a
Dutch uncle, and Barzil went off on a holy tack."

"About Nettie Vollar?"

Jeremy nodded. "Look here, Rhoda," he demanded, "did Gerrit ever say
anything to you about her?"