The decks smelled of damp woolens, and the air was so humid that drops of moisture kept gathering upon his hair and mustache.

He seldom moved except to brush them away.

The great open spaces made him passive and the restlessness of the water quieted him.

He intended during the voyage to decide upon a course of action, but he held all this away from him for the present and lay in a blessed gray oblivion.

Deep down in him somewhere his resolution was weakening and strengthening, ebbing and flowing.