"No, he's unusually lazy this morning; but I've called, him, the old dear!"
A chill crept up my spine—crept up, crept down, and then criss-crossed. But she must know of her mistake before we had gone so far that putting me ashore would be a serious inconvenience—for I knew he would put me ashore at the nearest point, if not, indeed, set me adrift in an open boat. Therefore I suggested:
"Wouldn't it be a good idea to call him again? It's rather important!"
"Oh, you think we shouldn't have gone out in a storm like this? I've been dreadfully uneasy!"
"No danger at all," I declared, with affected indifference, adding: "The weather isn't half as rough as 'the old dear' will be, take my word for it!"
A shadow of mystification passed over her wonderful face, yet she smiled with well-bred tolerance, saying:
"You are quite droll."
"Drollery is the brother of good fellowship," I replied, helping her across the reeling cabin. As I had feared, she went directly to my room where the door had swung back showing an empty bunk.
"Why, he's up, after all," she glanced over her shoulder at me.
"I believe he is," I idiotically affirmed.