He was back in three minutes with a key held between his fingers. "You take this," he said with concern. "Take it and keep it. I'm going to look around and find some water and a razor. I expect we're going to be together for some time, as the revolutionists are heading east. I don't want to frighten you with my appearance, Miss Marr."
"There's running water and razors in uncle's cabin."
Stirling stiffened and passed his hand over the stubble of his cheeks, removing his cap as he asked, "So he was your uncle?"
"Yes; Mr. Marr was my uncle. He brought me along on this trip because there was nobody to look after me ashore. I was at boarding school in Concord when he came for me."
Stirling glanced at the girl with open sympathy, and she returned his look, then blushed slightly, and moved away from the table. The key he had given her dropped to the deck. She recovered it and brushed back her hair as she rose.
"I'm sorry he died," Stirling managed to say. "I'm sorry. But I don't think he was doing right in bringing you North, and I don't think the seal raid was right. You see I'm plain-spoken. I'm not used to young ladies."
A laugh echoed through the cabin. "You're a sight!" said Helen Marr. "We'll get along. I don't fear anything at all now. Those awful Russians are afraid of you."
Stirling glanced at the barricaded deck light, and listened to the swift rush of the ship through the smooth sea. A slight chill was in the air, which spoke of ice fields to the north and east.
He dropped his glance and swept the cabin. The bomb gun on the table was a weapon in a thousand, and with it it would be possible to hold the cabin against a large number of men.
"The thing we have to find out," he said, "is how to stop the ship before we go too far. We're off Herschel Island now. Another day's mad steaming will wreck us sure. I don't want to see you wrecked."