“Do you mind? I’d like to wait and see which of them gets to the beach first. They’re racing, you see.”
Black Pawl took this delay as though it had been a respite. He was glad to wait, glad she had put him off. He tried to lie to himself in the matter, tried to hustle her impatiently to do his bidding. Nevertheless the relief in his heart would not be denied. He knew it for what it was, and he cursed himself for a weakling.
To her he only said dourly: “All right. But the mate’s boat is the faster.”
“I don’t care,” she told him challengingly. “Dan’s is ahead, and staying ahead. And Dan has more of a load, too. More men with him that aren’t rowing.”
He grinned at her, and said jeeringly: “He’s a wonderful Dan, you think.”
“I do think he’s wonderful,” she agreed, and looked up at Black Pawl cheerfully. “I—love him.”
Black Pawl’s eyes darkened. Why should she love Dan? In his sober moments, the Captain knew Darrin for a brave and capable officer. Now he swore to himself that Dan was worthless and beneath respect. To the girl he said: “Fiddle! You talk of your love as the Father talks of his God.”
Her eyes misted a little; and she nodded. “Yes, I do,” she told him. “But—I don’t believe He minds.”
“Aye,” said Black Pawl sardonically. “I’ve heard that tale.”
“I never really understood how much it meant, how true it was, till—I knew Dan,” she said softly.