“But—­”

Bull flung his cigar away with vicious force.

“Let me say this thing out,” he went on.  “There’s a man in the forest I know, every jack knows.  He’s a feller who sort of lives in the twilight.  You see, he sort of comes and goes; and no one knows a thing about him, except he haunts the forests like a shadow.  Well, he’s settin’ the notion you feel into practice—­in a way.  He’s out for the boys.  To help ’em, physically, spiritually, the whole time.  They love him.  We all love him to death.  Well, ask him how far he gets.  Maybe he’d tell you, and I guess his story ’ud break the heart of a stone image.  He’ll tell you—­and he speaks the truth—­there isn’t a thing to be done but heal ’em, and feed ’em, and just help ’em how you can.  The rest’s a dream.  You see, these jacks come from nowhere particular.  They take to the forests because it’s far off; and it’s dark, and covers most things up.  And they go nowhere particular, except it’s to the hell waiting on most of us if we don’t live life the way that’s intended for us.  No.  Quit worrying for the forest-jack.  Maybe life’s going to hand you all sorts of queer feelings as you go along.  And the good heart that sees suffering and injustice is going to ache mighty bad.  The forest wasn’t built for daylight, and the folks living there don’t fancy it.  And there isn’t a broom big enough in the world to clean up the muck you’ll find there.”

“You’re talking of Father Adam?”

Nancy’s interest had redoubled.  It had instantly centred itself on the man she had met in the Shagaunty forests.  The lumber-jacks were forgotten.

“Yes.”  Bull nodded.  “Do you know him?” There was eagerness in his question.

“I met him on the Shagaunty.”

The man had produced a fresh cigar.  But the renewed heavy rolling of the vessel delayed its lighting.  Nancy gazed out to sea in some concern.

“It’s getting worse,” she said.

Bull struck a match and covered it with both hands.

“It seems that way,” he replied indifferently.  Then after a moment he looked up.  His cigar was alight.  “He’s a great fellow—­Father Adam,” he said reflectively.

“He’s just—­splendid.”

The girl’s enthusiasm told Bull something of the thing he wanted to know.

“Yes,” he said.  “He’s the best man I know.  The world doesn’t mean a thing to him.  Why he’s there I don’t know, and I guess it’s not my business anyway.  But if God’s mercy’s to be handed to any human creature it seems to me it won’t come amiss—­Say!”

He broke off, startled.  He sat up with a jump.  A great gust of wind broke down upon the vessel.  It came with a shriek that rose in a fierce crescendo.  His startled eyes were riveted upon a new development in the sky.  An inky cloud bank was sweeping down upon them out of the north-east, and the wind seemed to roar its way out of its very heart.

The vessel heeled over.  Again the wind tore at the creaking gear.  It was a moment of breathless suspense for those seated helplessly looking on.  Then something crashed.  A vast sea beat on the quarter and deluged the decks, and the chairs were torn from their moorings.