"Of course not," muttered Lingard.
The listlessness of that man whom he had always seen acting under
the stress of a secret passion seemed perfectly appalling to Carter's
youthful and deliberate energy. Ever since he had found himself
again face to face with Lingard he had tried to conceal the shocking
impression with a delicacy which owed nothing to training but was as
intuitive as a child's.
While justifying to Lingard his manner of dealing with the situation
on the Shore of Refuge, he could not for the life of him help asking
himself what was this new mystery. He was also young enough to long for
a word of commendation.
"Come, Captain," he argued; "how would you have liked to come out and
find nothing but two half-burnt wrecks stuck on the sands--perhaps?"
He waited for a moment, then in sheer compassion turned away his eyes
from that fixed gaze, from that harassed face with sunk cheeks, from
that figure of indomitable strength robbed of its fire. He said to
himself: "He doesn't hear me," and raised his voice without altering its
self-contained tone:
"I was below yesterday morning when we felt the shock, but the noise
came to us only as a deep rumble. I made one jump for the companion but
that precious Shaw was before me yelling, 'Earthquake! Earthquake!' and
I am hanged if he didn't miss his footing and land down on his head at
the bottom of the stairs.
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