The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. He allowed his irons and clothes to be taken off without resistance. And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. It was an impulse.
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