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more work, though,” Ethan concluded. “They’re about to collapse.  I can’t fathom why they were built the way they were.”  
    The two men had nearly reached their destination.  Four of their fellow sailors were already waiting on the wharf.  Two more leaned against the railing of the Atlantic Hotel, in a jolly mood.  The tavern keeper stepped outside his door to say goodbye.  As they turned towards the launch, a group of women bade them a good evening.  An oysterman, securing his boat for the night, nodded and greeted them.  They heaved off from the wharf and made for the Louisiana , Sam and Ethan side-by-side at their oars.  
    As they rowed, each man had a tale to tell of the islanders he had met and the good he had done.
    â€œAnd what sort of work did you manage today?” asked Ethan.  Sam hesitated.  It would be easy to tell Ethan about the work; he was not certain he wanted to share the rest.  Ethan was like a brother.  Each man had rescued the other from many a tight spot.  For once, though, Sam could not trust anyone, even Ethan, with his thoughts.  
    â€œThe owner of the home is a widow, too,” he answered, pulling at his oar.  “Just as the pastor told us.  Much younger than your widow, though.  There’s a son and a daughter about our age.”  
    â€œDid you meet them?”  Ethan asked.  He was curious.
    â€œI did,” Sam replied.  “The house is in bad repair.”  To Sam’s surprise and relief, Ethan didn’t question his evasion.  Perhaps he was too tired from his work for the Widow Copes.  
    The launch was hauled aboard ship by a waiting crew supervised by Benjamin Harvey, who scrutinized each man as he disembarked.  They all must have looked sufficiently tired and dirty, for the boatswain seemed pleased.  Even the two sailors who had visited the tavern at the Atlantic Hotel passed muster.  
    â€œThe meal’s waitin’,” Harvey growled, and they trudged off to the mess.  “Dreher, the Captain wants to see you.”   Sam stood for a moment, surprised.  Harvey jabbed his thumb in the direction of the Captain’s quarters.
    Sharpe’s cabin was in the stern, just below the upper deck.  It was a place best avoided by an ordinary seaman.  Nothing good could come of a visit with Captain Dull; he always found something out of place, or a violation of the Navy Operations Manual.  Sam ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his uniform as he walked.  He was hardly ready for an inspection.  Descending the ladder, he found the door open and the Captain seated at his desk, reading.  
    â€œCome in, Dreher,” he beckoned, turning in his chair and laying his spectacles on his book.  Sam stood at attention just inside the doorway.  “At ease.”  Sam waited for the usual critique.  “I would be interested in your observations about the island,” Sharpe began.  “Any and all observations.”   
    Sam was relieved.  He described the meetings with the pastors, the work they had done, and the gratitude of the families, paying particular attention to Ethan’s reception by Lovey Copes.  The Captain hung on every detail.  
    â€œYou would say, then, that your visit was successful?  That you made a positive impression upon the citizens of the island?”  
    â€œAye, sir, without a doubt, sir,” Sam responded.  Sharpe nodded, reaching for his tobacco pouch and filling his pipe.  
    â€œThat’s very good news.  Excellent news.”  He rose to his feet, gazing out the starboard porthole towards the village, now settling into darkness.  The final glow of the sun setting over the mainland filled the cabin with coppery light.  Carefully lighting his lamp, then his pipe, he waved Sam away.  “Well done, Dreher.  We shall continue