“Boom-m-me!” roared an answering gun from the chase.
“Ow-oo!” screeched Judith, burying her head in Britmarte’s lap; “kiver me up! kiver me up! I’m kilt entirely!”
But Miss Conyers started up, threw the girl off her knees, hurried on her clothes and hastened out into the cabin, where she met Justin leaving his stateroom.
“The action has commenced!” exclaimed Britomarte.
“Yes, dearest one. Stay where you are, I beseech you. You can do no good on deck,” urged Justin.
“If I can do no good, I can at least risk my life with the others,” persisted Britomarte.
“But to what end? Britomarte, you will not only do no good by going on deck, but you will do much harm by being in everybody’s way,” said Justin, bluntly.
She looked intently in his face to see if he spoke in earnest, before she answered.
“If that is so, I will stay here. But oh, how unwillingly.”
And she sat down, only half resigned to her inactivity, and mediated how she could change it into good service.