To me she said no word. Her hand touched mine quick farewell. The long lashes lifted.
There was a look on her face.
I ask no greater joy in Paradise than memory of that look.
One lone, gray star hung over the masthead. The ship careened across the billows till star and mast-top met.
Jack fetched a deep sigh.
"There be work for sailors in England," he said.
In a flash I thought that I knew what he had meant by fools not loving in the right place.
"That were folly, Jack! She hath her station!"
Jack Battle pointed to the fading steel point above the vanishing masthead.