Date: 1897
The decks were deserted, for many of these people were returning to England after long years in India, and the first chill northern breeze they met made them shiver while it delighted them.  Luke FitzHenry was on the bridge from eight o'clock till midnight, motionless at his post — a mere navigating machine , respected and feared by all who worked with him, understood of none.  When midnight came he exchanged a few words with the first officer, and together they superintended the shaking out of the foresails before the watch went below.