We have set sail. Course 220 magnetic. A week-long passage. Capt. Joel is satisfied with the state of Alobar; although not ship-shape. At sea Joel is happy. Fettered to one another by the confines of Alobar an understanding has developed between us. Joel's happiness is tantamount to my own.
My anxiety or joy, my task and sociability is based on the captain's mood. When the captain suffers compunction (which is often) I resign myself reticent but available. At times I must be aloof to provide necessary privacy. Traces of my existence must be only those which show contribution and thoughtfulness.
At sea when in repose Capt. Joel is reflective. A laconic man, a navy man. He, at the onset of any task, then becomes intense and cutting-- yelling with the impatience of a disappointed father. His spry physique defies all preconception of age. Climbing about the boat like a child on a jungle gym. Commanding directions to crew. I cannot attempt to summarize his complete existence. I only know him as the consummate skipper.
Mentally he exhibits little preoccupation as to the inevitabilities that must loom above any septuagenarian. He is wholly occupied by exacting care and paranoid precaution; there is room for little else. He bears the weight of all successes and failures and all the future failures he has played in his mind in a thousand different ways. Working for this man, living under his precept I have found unrelenting faith in our security and seamanship. He is not my friend, nor a mentor, to consider him such would be met with indifference. He is the captain of the ship and has a job to do, as well do I. Capt. Joel and I can be pals once out of the eye of a jealous ocean.
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