But Marlow was not put off. He was patient and reflective. He had been
at sea many years and I verily believe he liked sea-life because upon the
whole it is favourable to reflection. I am speaking of the now nearly
vanished sea-life under sail. To those who may be surprised at the
statement I will point out that this life secured for the mind of him who
embraced it the inestimable advantages of solitude and silence. Marlow
had the habit of pursuing general ideas in a peculiar manner, between
jest and earnest.

"Oh, I wouldn't suggest," he said, "that your namesake Mr. Powell, the
Shipping Master, had done you much harm. Such was hardly his intention.
And even if it had been he would not have had the power. He was but a
man, and the incapacity to achieve anything distinctly good or evil is
inherent in our earthly condition. Mediocrity is our mark. And perhaps
it's just as well, since, for the most part, we cannot be certain of the
effect of our actions."

"I don't know about the effect," the other stood up to Marlow manfully.
"What effect did you expect anyhow? I tell you he did something
uncommonly kind."

"He did what he could," Marlow retorted gently, "and on his own showing
that was not a very great deal. I cannot help thinking that there was
some malice in the way he seized the opportunity to serve you. He
managed to make you uncomfortable. You wanted to go to sea, but he
jumped at the chance of accommodating your desire with a vengeance. I am
inclined to think your cheek alarmed him. And this was an excellent
occasion to suppress you altogether. For if you accepted he was relieved
of you with every appearance of humanity, and if you made objections
(after requesting his assistance, mind you) it was open to him to drop