“Why not? Tell me that! The doctor has just recommended her a sea trip. Where could she get a better one? Of course you’d have to get a big, comfortable launch——”
“I intended to get that, anyway.” Slowly the light that shone in her face stole into his. “Are you a good sailor——?”
“It just happens that neither mother nor I know what sea-sickness means. Otherwise, I’m afraid we wouldn’t find very much pleasure in the trip. You remember the time, in Rex Nard’s yacht, off Columbia River bar? But won’t you be in the inside passage, anyway?”
“The inside passage doesn’t go across the Bay of Alaska—but father says it’s all quiet water among the islands we’ll trade at, in Bering Sea. It freezes over tight in winter, so it must be quiet.” He paused, drinking in the advantages of the plan. They would be together; that point alone was inducement enough for him. By one stroke an arduous, unpleasant business venture could be turned into a pleasure trip, an excursion on a private yacht over the wintry waters of the North. It was true that Lenore’s point of view was slightly different, but her enthusiasm was no less than his. The plan was a perfect answer to the problem of her mother’s sea trip and the inevitable expense involved. She knew her mother’s thrifty disposition; she would be only too glad to take her voyage as the guest of her daughter’s fiancé. And both of them could robe themselves in such furs as had never been seen on Second Avenue before.
“Take you—I should say I will take you—and your mother, too,” he was exclaiming with the utmost enthusiasm and delight. “Lenore, it will be a regular party—a joy-ride such as we never took before.”
For a moment they were silent, lost in their own musings. The wind off the Sound signaled to them at the windows—rattling faintly like ghost hands stretched with infinite difficulty from some dim, far-off Hereafter. It had lately blown from Bering Sea, and perhaps it had a message for them. Perhaps it had heard the scornful words they had spoken of the North—of the strange, gray, forgotten world over which it had lately swept—but there was no need to tell them that they lied. A few days more would find them venturing northward, and they could find out for themselves. But perhaps the wind had a note of grim, sardonic laughter as it sped on in its ceaseless journey.
IV
Ned planned to rise early, but sleep was heavy upon him when he tried to waken. It was after ten when he had finished breakfast and was ready to begin active preparations for the excursion. His first work, of course, was to see about hiring a launch.
Ten minutes’ ride took him to the office of his friend, Rex Nard, vice-president of a great marine-outfitting establishment, and five minutes’ conversation with this gentleman told him all he wanted to know. Yes, as it happened Nard knew of a corking craft that was at that moment in need of a charterer, possibly just the thing that Cornet wanted. The only difficulty, Nard explained, was that it was probably a much better schooner than was needed for casual excursions into northern waters.
“This particular craft was built for a scientific expedition sent out by one of the great museums,” Nard explained. “It isn’t just a fisherman’s scow. She has a nifty galley and a snug little dining saloon, and two foxy little staterooms for extra toney passengers. Quite an up-stage little boat. Comfortable as any yacht you ever saw.”