"Why did you do that?" he asked hoarsely. "You nearly had me overboard."
"There was a porpoise lying on the surface of the sea, asleep, I think," she said quietly. "I'm very sorry, Marcus, but I didn't know that it would throw you off your balance."
He looked round for the sleeping fish but it had disappeared.
"You told me to avoid them, you know," she said apologetically. "Did I really put you in any danger?"
He licked his dry lips, picked up the paint-pot, and threw it into the sea.
"We'll leave this," he said, "until we are beached. You gave me a scare, Jean."
"I'm dreadfully sorry. Come here, and sit by me."
She moved to allow him room, and he sat down by her, taking the wheel from her hand.
On the horizon the high lands of northern Africa were showing their saw-edge outlines.
"That is Morocco," he pointed out to her. "I propose giving Gibraltar a wide berth, and following the coast line to Tangier."