The girl made a little whimsical gesture. "Does it? You are not a regular yacht-hand, really?"
"I am, at least, mate of a lumber-carrying schooner, which comes to much the same thing."
The twinkle in Nellie Austerly's eyes grew plainer. "I can be quite frank with Mr. Valentine and you, and perhaps it is because I like you both. You can make what you think fit of that. Still, I haven't asked you how long you have been on board the schooner, and one understands there are a good many opportunities for men—like you and Mr. Valentine—in this country."
Jimmy was a little startled, for it almost seemed that she had guessed his thoughts, but he smiled.
"Valentine seems to have all he wants already. He is content with the sea."
The girl laughed. "Well," she said, "I don't think the sea would altogether satisfy him. But I must not keep you here; hadn't you better make sure Anthea isn't running us ashore?"
Jimmy went up, and found the Sorata was smoothly slipping by the climbing pines; and a little later her dory with three white men in it came sliding toward them as he hauled the topsail down.
CHAPTER IX
MERRIL TIGHTENS THE SCREW
The Sorata went to sea again next morning, and one night a week later she bore up for Vancouver before a westerly breeze. A thin crescent moon had just cleared the dim white line of the mainland snow, and the sea glittered faintly in her frothing wake under a vast sweep of dusky blue. The big topsail swayed across it, blotting out the stars, and there was a rhythmic splashing beneath the bows.