John's wife seemed to have lost her many faults, and the image that faded from his gaze was a creature of perfection.
Only the beautiful face, the great dark eyes and the sunny smiles were remembered.
John went to his stateroom and, falling into his berth, wept.

He may be called weak, but he was not.

John had braved too many dangers and undergone too many hardships to be termed weak.

His mind was filled with his wife and children.

The face of his sleeping baby, whose warm, tender arms had been so often entwined about his neck, lingered in his mind.
When the dinner hour came he was not hungry, so he remained in his cabin.
The vessel had gained the open sea by nightfall and was bowling along at a three-knot rate under full spread of canvas and fair wind.