Browne scarcely knew what to say. He was naturally very anxious to get away; at the same time he was quite aware of the dangers of the seas in which his boat was, just at that time. He accordingly went forward and argued it out with Mason, whom he found of very much the same opinion as Maas.
"We have not much to risk, sir, by waiting," said that gentleman; "and, as far as I can see, we've everything to gain. A very strong current sets from the northward; and, as you can see for yourself, a fog is coming up. I don't mind telling you, sir, I've no fancy for manoeuvring about here in the dark."
"Then you think it would be wiser for us to remain at anchor until daylight?" asked Browne.
"If you ask me to be candid with you," the skipper replied, "I must say I do, sir."
"Very good, then," answered Browne. "In that case we will remain." Without further discussion, he made his way to the smoking-room, where he announced to those assembled there, that the yacht would not get under way till morning.
"'Pon my word, Browne, I think you're right," continued Maas. "You don't want to run any risks, do you? You'll be just as safe here, if not safer, than you would be outside."
"I'm not so sure of that," retorted Jimmy; and then, for some reason not specified, a sudden silence fell upon the party.
A quarter of an hour later Browne made his way to the deck-house again. He found Katherine and her father alone together, the man fast asleep and the girl kneeling by his side.
"Dearest," said Katherine softly, as she rose and crossed the cabin to meet her lover, "I have not thanked you yet for all you have done for—for him and for me."
She paused towards the end of her speech, as if she scarcely knew how to express herself; and Browne, for whom her every action had some significance, was quick to notice it.