"If we could do it, I'd be with you," he told her. "But we can't, Faith."

"We will," she said.

He smiled, studied her for a moment, then leaned toward her, resting his hands on the desk. "Faith," he said softly, "you're a wonderful, brave woman."

She looked at him with a weary flicker of lips and eyes that might have passed for a smile. "It's not that I'm brave, Dan'l," she said. "It's just that I'll not let Noll Wing's ship rot here when it should be bound home t'the other side of the world."

"Noll Wing's ship?" he echoed. "Eh, Faith, but Noll Wing is dead and gone."

She nodded. "Yes."

"He's dead and gone, Faith," he repeated swiftly. "He's dead, and gone.... And but for Noll Wing, Faith, you'd have loved me, three year ago."

She looked up, then, and studied him, and she said softly: "You'll mind, Dan'l, that Noll Wing is not but three weeks dead.... Even now."

"Three weeks dead!" he cried. "Have I not seen? He's been a dead man this year past; a dead man that walked and talked and swore.... But dead this year past. You've been a widow for a year, Faith...."

She shook her head. "So long as the Sally lies here on the sand," she said, "I'm not Noll Wing's widow; I'm his wife. It was his job to bring her home; and so it is my job, too. And will be, till she's fast to the wharf at home."