Seth studied her face with a quick, keen glance, then smiled, and said: “Oh, you look a here, now. I am captain here, by your leave, my dears, and I ain’t goin’ to allow any sick stomachs in this here crew.” His sunny face seemed greatly to encourage the little band.
“I wouldn’t fear to remain here now,” said Ina, bravely; “I am sure we soon may return. I feel it.”
Haverland kissed his child, but made no further reply, and all relapsed into a stillness, and ceased further conversation. There was something in the gathering gloom around, something in the peculiar situation in which they were placed, that imparted a despondency to all. The boat was still fastened to the shore, and the time for loosening it was close at hand. Mrs. Haverland had passed within the rude cabin, the door of which remained open, while Seth and the husband remained in the stern. Ina sat near at hand, and had fallen into the same silence that rested upon the others.
“Doesn’t it look dark and awful back there?” she asked, in a whisper, of Seth, pointing toward the shore.
“It does somewhat, I think.”
“And yet I wouldn’t be afraid to go back to the house.”
“You’d better stay in the boat, young ’un.”
“You think I am afraid, do you?” she said, bounding out the boat to the shore.
“Ina! Ina! what do you mean?” asked the father, sternly.