MACGREGOR CAME UP ON the bridge soon after Olsen had taken over. He leant against the for’ard periscope standard, behind Olsen - and below him, because there was a raised step in the front of the bridge. So when the Norwegian swept round with his binoculars, he looked clear over the Captain’s head instead of meeting an interruption in his steady, continuous search.
MacGregor used his glasses, now and then, but most of the time he just leant there, watching the sea rush past: Olsen, glancing back at him in the pauses when he had to stop and wipe the sea dew off the lenses of the binoculars, wondered if this Scotsman loved the sight and sound and feel of it as much as he did himself. It wasn’t a thing you could talk to people about, or explain: it was a subtle, private pleasure, almost a mo
