She closed the hatch gently behind her. No sound of a sliding bolt followed—she trusted him too innocently to lock the door against him.
For a while he heard her moving about, then all was quiet. He pictured her tired little body cuddled under the blankets while a grateful warmth crept over her. He smiled to the gray sea at the thought.
The wind and sea diminished rapidly. The sun rose out of the waste to the east, and the last of the foul weather fled before it. In an hour or so he ventured to hoist the mainsail. The sloop bore it well, and under it made swift progress toward the southwest. Sooner or later, he knew he must sight land in that direction.
Indeed, it was not yet ten o’clock when a remote gray line took shape off the starboard bow. He could not repress a shout of joy:
“Land! Land ho! Land!”
In a moment the cabin-hatch was opened wide enough to let a sleepy voice be heard. “Did you call me, Bob White?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you, child, but land’s in sight.”
“Land? Oh, that’s good! But I must have been sleeping for hours. You oughtn’t to have let me be so selfish.”
“Not at all. You can do your trick at the wheel whenever you’re ready, and I’ll turn in a while.”
“I’ll be out in ten minutes—no, twenty, for I’m going to get breakfast for you.”