been a sort of good uncle to several of you young fellows lately. Don't
you think so yourself? However, if you don't like it you may put him
right--when you get out to sea." At this I felt a bit queer. Mr. Powell
had rendered me a very good service:- because it's a fact that with us
merchant sailors the first voyage as officer is the real start in life.
He had given me no less than that. I told him warmly that he had done
for me more that day than all my relations put together ever did.

"Oh, no, no," says he. "I guess it's that shipment of explosives waiting
down the river which has done most for you. Forty tons of dynamite have
been your best friend to-day, young man."

"That was true too, perhaps. Anyway I saw clearly enough that I had
nothing to thank myself for. But as I tried to thank him, he checked my
stammering.

"Don't be in a hurry to thank me," says he. "The voyage isn't finished
yet."

Our new acquaintance paused, then added meditatively: "Queer man. As if
it made any difference. Queer man."

"It's certainly unwise to admit any sort of responsibility for our
actions, whose consequences we are never able to foresee," remarked
Marlow by way of assent.

"The consequence of his action was that I got a ship," said the other.
"That could not do much harm," he added with a laugh which argued a
probably unconscious contempt of general ideas.