"Supposed to," said Carlyle grimly. His dark eyes flashed to the slim, shark-like hull haunting their wake. His big, sturdy body seemed to tighten. "Haggard's got the reputation of being a pirate. I'm not looking for trouble, but if there is any—well, we can take care of ourselves. I know a few tricks more than Brand Haggard, I think."
Looking at him, Ann knew a thrill of admiration. His attraction for her had been growing with every hour they spent together. "You seem so confident about it," she murmured.
"After twenty years of this sort of work you get your lines pretty well in mind," Carlyle chuckled.
"Twenty years!" Ann's brow arched. "But you don't seem to be over thirty—!"
"I'm a little older than that," the laughing answer came. "I began as a galley-boy."
Silence fell for a moment, while Ann tried to figure his age from what he had said. Then suddenly Thaddeus Carlyle was saying softly:
"You aren't wearing Captain Wolfe's ring any more. I couldn't help noticing. Anything wrong between you two?"
"We—we decided it was best, during the trip, to forget our engagement," the girl faltered, the color rising into her cheeks. She knew he saw through her evasive answer. His eyes, so piercing and yet gentle, seemed to know everything she thought.
Abruptly, Carlyle's fingers slipped about her hand. "Ann, if you and Larry ever do break it off," he pleaded, "will you remember that I—could love you very much?"