Gissing sighed.

"What is it?" the Captain inquired anxiously.

"I'm bothered about the subconscious. They tell us nowadays that
it's the subconscious mind that is really important. The more
mental operations we can turn over to the subconscious realm, the
happier we will be, and the more efficient. Morality, theology,
and everything really worth while, as I understand it, spring
from the subconscious."

The Captain's look of cheer would vanish.

"Maybe there's something in that."

"If so," Gissing continued, "then perhaps consciousness is
entirely spurious. It seems to me that before we can get anywhere
at all, we've got to draw the line between the conscious and the
subconscious. What bothers me is, am I conscious of having a
subconscious, or not? Sometimes I think I am, and then again I'm
doubtful. But if I'm aware of my subconscious, then it isn't a
genuine subconscious, and the whole thing's just another
delusion--"

The Captain would knit his weather-beaten brow and again retire
anxiously to his quarters, after begging Gissing to be generous
and carry on a while longer. Occasionally, pacing the starboard
bridge-deck, sacred to captains, Gissing would glance through the
port and see the metaphysical commander bent over sheets of
foolscap and thickly wreathed in pipe-smoke.