and, some time here. later, Stanley’s [32] 23/10 Next morning he explains: thought “I that if going to be a loser— I’m no point arguing—I ought there’s to spend some more time down the boozer. And if going to do it right I’m I should be down there every night.” flabbergasted. you Jo’s “Dad, can’t—” like my sainted aunt. “You’re sounding This is the perfect thing for me. some great new mates. Time passes I’ve met more speedily between the glasses. and every seventh drink is free!” He takes his hat and wallet, then walks out the door: half-past ten. it’s [33] 24/10 have to work today, Jo doesn’t but, disappointed and distracted, she rides the ferries anyway. The nervous shimmer of refracted sunlight reflects her state of mind. The other deckhands, long resigned to dealing with moods, Joanna’s indulge her silent interludes. seen her sigh and drift and moon, They’ve a melancholy figurehead draping the prow with thoughts unsaid, and know that be talking soon. she’ll They leave to wave and wind and water the worries of her daughter. father’s [34] 25/10 And, sure enough, the wheelhouse deck provides a confidant tonight. me. a “O Captain—help I’m wreck,” she says, proceeding to recite her wretchedness to Captain Steele, who creases brow and clutches wheel and says, all vitriol, “Despite the careful use of alcohol combined with nurture and support is not condemned by current thinking. How long since Stanley started drinking?” or only short. “Three four days.” “That’s be all to it. He’ll right. There’s nothing Just stick around and see him through it.”
and, some time later, Stanley’s here. [32] 23/10 Next morning he explains: “I thought that if I’m going to be a loser— there’s no point arguing—I ought to spend some more time down the boozer. And if I’m going to do it right I should be down there every night.” Jo’s flabbergasted. “Dad, you can’t—” “You’re sounding like my sainted aunt. This is the perfect thing for me. I’ve met some great new mates. Time passes more speedily between the glasses. and every seventh drink is free!” He takes his hat and wallet, then walks out the door: it’s half-past ten. [33] 24/10 Jo doesn’t have to work today, but, disappointed and distracted, she rides the ferries anyway. The nervous shimmer of refracted sunlight reflects her state of mind. The other deckhands, long resigned to dealing with Joanna’s moods, indulge her silent interludes. They’ve seen her sigh and drift and moon, a melancholy figurehead draping the prow with thoughts unsaid, and know that she’ll be talking soon. They leave to wave and wind and water the worries of her father’s daughter. [34] 25/10 And, sure enough, the wheelhouse deck provides a confidant tonight. “O Captain—help me. I’m a wreck,” she says, proceeding to recite her wretchedness to Captain Steele, who creases brow and clutches wheel and says, “Despite all vitriol, the careful use of alcohol combined with nurture and support is not condemned by current thinking. How long since Stanley started drinking?” “Three or four days.” “That’s only short. He’ll be all right. There’s nothing to it. Just stick around and see him through it.”
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