That day Harold passed in unutterable gloom.

The reaction was strong on him; and all his woe, his bitter remembrance of the past and his desolation for the future, were with him unceasingly.
In the dusk of the evening he wandered out to his favourite spot, the cable-tank on top of the aft wheelhouse.

Here he had been all alone, and his loneliness had the added advantage that from the isolated elevation he could see if anyone approached.

He had been out there during the day, and the Captain, who had noticed his habit had had rigged up a canvas dodger on the rail on the weather side.

When he sat down on the coiled hawsers in the tank he was both secluded and sheltered.