“Which of them?”
“The last one; the navy man.” She found it slightly embarrassing to answer the question.
Aynsley gave her a keen glance.
“So far as I can recollect, he had light hair, and his eyes were a darker blue than you often see; about my age, I think, and unmistakably a sailor, but he had a smart look and the stamp of command. Do you know anybody like that?”
Ruth did not answer with her usual frankness; although she did not doubt that this was the second mate with whom she had spent many evenings on the big liner’s saloon deck.
“Oh, of course, we met several steamboat officers, and they’re much of a type,” she answered in an indifferent tone.
Aynsley saw that she was on her guard. Girls, he understood, often had a partiality for mailboat officers who were generally men of prepossessing appearance and manners. However, he kept his thoughts to himself, for he was usually diffident with Ruth. Although he had long admired her, he knew that he would not gain anything by an attempt to press his suit.
“Anyway,” he said, “they were pleasant fellows, and seemed to be having a hard time. Between the ice and gales and fog, it’s by no means a charming neighborhood.”
“Wasn’t it on one of those islands that my father was wrecked, and lost the gold he was bringing down?”
“Somewhere about there. Islands are plentiful in the North.” Aynsley paused and laughed. “Still, as my respected parent had some interest in the gold, I shouldn’t imagine they lost much. Losing things is not a habit of his. I believe he had a share in the vessel, too.”