the night, down to a parting shaft of crafty comment:
"And there's them that thinks the old man is a softy an' ought to be knittin' tidies in a home for derelict seafarin' men."
Restlessly seeking the captain's stateroom again and again, Valentine was denied admittance until late in the afternoon. When the doctor let him in, the old man opened his eyes and his weather-scarred face lightened with a kindly gleam of recognition. Valentine flushed and began hurried speech:
"I hope you'll forget that letter…. Is there anything I can do?… If you want to go to sea again, or if you don't, or whatever else"
The doctor raised a silencing finger. Valentine bent over to stroke a bandaged hand which moved on the blanket just enough to pat his with a little parental caress. The doctor nudged Valentine to withdraw, as the captain whispered drowsily:
"All-l's well…. You didn't know any better, did you?… So He bringeth them into their desired haven."
