"So!" said he, smiling. "Well, you're plucky, but you're not a fool; and I won't forget that little affair downstairs. I'll admit you might have dusted me right up, if you'd chosen. But you didn't. You had a clear head and refrained."
"On the contrary," said I, "I've been thinking ever since what a dolt I was not to shoot."
"You don't shoot the man at the wheel, lad," said he with a grin.
"Oh, you weren't that; you were only the enemy. Why, we struck half an hour later."
"Yes," he assented. "But we're not down under yet. And you can take your solemn Alfred that that's where we should be now if you hadn't let me pass. No, doctor, you spared the rod and saved the ship."
"Well, she's piled up, my good sir," I declared.
"So she is," he admitted. "But she's saved all the same. And I'll let you into a little secret, doctor. What d'ye suppose my men are busy about, eh? Why, pumping—pumping for all they're worth. I keep 'em well employed, by thunder." He laughed. "If it's not fight, it's pump, and if it weren't pump, by the blazes it would be fight. So you owe me one, doctor, you and those fine friends of yours who wouldn't pick you out of a gutter."
"Supposing we get to the point," I suggested curtly.
"That's all right. There's a point about here, sure enough. Well, we're piled up on blessed Hurricane Island, doctor, as you see. We struck her at a proper angle. See? Here lies the Sea Queen, with a bulge in her and her nose for the water. She'd like to crawl off, and could."
He waved his hand as he spoke, and for the first time my gaze took in the scene. We lay crooked up upon a ridge of rock and sand; beyond, to the right, the cliffs rose in a cloud of gulls, and nearer and leftwards the long rollers broke upon a little beach which sloped up to the verdure of a tiny valley. It was a solitary but a not unhandsome prospect, and my eyes devoured it with inward satisfaction, even with longing. Far away a little hill was crowned with trees, and the sun was shining warmly on the gray sand and blue water.