Anderson put the glass into his pocket. He was sullen and determined.
He stood motionless for full half an hour, trying to repress the
workings of an aroused conscience; but his thoughts would not let
him alone. There was something behind them, some new sensations,
which set them buzzing in his mind. These sensations were his
finest feelings--ennobling emotions which had been cramped in the
grip of discipline for forty years. He could not comprehend it, but
he found himself pursuing a train of thoughts of finer sensibility
than he had ever experienced, and in which the great bribe had no
place. He foreshadowed in his mind's eye the tragic events over which
he was now presiding. He foresaw the danger to life and limb with
a fresh clearness of vision. He pictured to himself the possible
agonies of his fellow-creatures (never once thinking of his own) with
a sentiment much akin to pity--strong, too, but not sufficiently
strong to overcome that unbending guide which forbade him for
honour's sake to go back upon his promise. Then there was the doom
of the ship itself--
The man is not angry, much less fearful; but his lips are quivering
and his nostrils widening with a passion hitherto unknown.
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