Digital heart book

The thought thrilled me like a
trumpet in the hour of battle. In a moment I had
leaped from bed, crossed the office where Pinkerton lay
in a deep trance of sleep on the convertible sofa, and
stood in the doorway, in my night gear, to receive our
visitor.
Johnson was first, by way of usher, smiling. From a
little behind, with his Sunday hat tilted forward over
his brow and a cigar glowing between his lips, Captain
Nares acknowledged our previous acquaintance with a
succinct nod. Behind him again, in the top of the
stairway, a knot of sailors, the new crew of the
NORAH CREINA, stood polishing the wall with back and
elbow. These I left without to their reflections. But
our two officers I carried at once into the office,
where (taking Jim by the shoulder) I shook him slowly
into consciousness. He sat up, all abroad for the
moment, and stared on the new captain.
"Jim," said I, "this is Captain Nares. Captain, Mr.
Pinkerton."
Nares repeated his curt nod, still without speech; and
I thought he held us both under a watchful scrutiny.


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