Of Love and Queens
For a few minutes Wilson kept in the background. He saw that the young man was in command and apparently knew what he was about, for one order followed another, succeeded by a quick movement of silent figures about the decks, a jingle of bells below, and soon the metallic clank of the steam-driven windlass. Shortly after this he felt the pulse beat of the engines below, and then saw the ship, as gently as a maid picking her way across a muddy street, move slowly ahead into the dark.
“Now,” said Danbury to Stubbs, “hold your breath. If we can only slide by the lynx-eyed quarantine officers, we’ll have a straight road ahead of us for a while.”
“Maybe we’ll do it; maybe we won’t.”
“You damned pessimist,” laughed Danbury. “Once we’re out of this harbor I’ll give you a feed that will make an optimist of you.”
The black smoke, sprinkled with golden red sparks from the forced draft, belched from the funnel tops. The ship slid by the green and red lights of other craft with never a light of her own. The three men 137 stood there until the last beacon was passed and the boat was pointed for the open.
“Done!” exclaimed Danbury. “Now we’ll have our lights and sail like men. Hanged if I like that trick of muffled lights; but it would be too long a delay to be held up here until morning.”
He spoke a moment to his mate, and then turned to Stubbs.
“Now,” he said, “come on and I’ll make you glad you’re living.”
“Just a moment, Cap’n––my mate Wilson.”