Burns
and I alternated at the forward companionway, and, although the men
were divided into watches, the entire crew was on duty virtually
all the time.
I find, on consulting the book in which I recorded, beginning with
that day, the incidents of the return voyage, that two things
happened that evening. One was my interview with Singleton; the
other was my curious and depressing clash with Elsa Lee, on the deck
that night.
Turner being quiet and Burns on watch at the beginning of the second
dog watch, six o'clock, I went forward to the room where Singleton
was imprisoned. Burns gave me the key, and advised me to take a
weapon. I did not, however, nor was it needed.
The first mate was sitting on the edge of his bunk, in his attitude
of the morning, his head in his hands. As I entered, he looked up
and nodded. His color was still bad; he looked ill and nervous, as
might have been expected after his condition the night before.
"For God's sake, Leslie," he said, "tell them to open the window.
I'm choking!"
He was right: the room was stifling. I opened the door behind me,
and stood in the doorway, against a rush for freedom. But he did
not move. He sank back into his dejected attitude.
"Will you eat some soup, if I send it?"
He shook his head.
"Is there anything you care for?"
"Better let me starve; I'm gone, anyhow.
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