We were walking to and fro athwart the quarter-deck. No one of the crew
forward could be seen (the day was Sunday), and the mate pursued:

"There was some little dispute about it. Our chaps took offense. 'As
if we would harbor a thing like that,' they said. 'Wouldn't you like to
look for him in our coal-hole?' Quite a tiff. But they made it up in the
end. I suppose he did drown himself. Don't you, sir?"

"I don't suppose anything."

"You have no doubt in the matter, sir?"

"None whatever."

I left him suddenly. I felt I was producing a bad impression, but with
my double down there it was most trying to be on deck. And it was almost
as trying to be below. Altogether a nerve-trying situation. But on the
whole I felt less torn in two when I was with him. There was no one in
the whole ship whom I dared take into my confidence. Since the hands had
got to know his story, it would have been impossible to pass him off for
anyone else, and an accidental discovery was to be dreaded now more than
ever. . . .

The steward being engaged in laying the table for dinner, we could talk
only with our eyes when I first went down. Later in the afternoon we
had a cautious try at whispering. The Sunday quietness of the ship was
against us; the stillness of air and water around her was against us;
the elements, the men were against us--everything was against us in our
secret partnership; time itself--for this could not go on forever. The