Dahler sat up in his bunk. 'I'm quite well, thank you,' he said sharply.
She handed him the cup. 'Drink that,' she said. 'And then try to get some sleep.'
I followed her out and shut the door. 'We must always see that somebody else is with him when Jorgensen is about,' I said.
She nodded.
'Was it an accident or not?' I asked her.
'I don't know.' She turned quickly towards the galley.
I caught her arm. 'You saw what happened. Or Jorgensen thought you did. What was it — accident or — attempted murder?'
She winced at the ugliness of the word. 'I don't know,' she said again.
I let her go then. 'He seems to have reason enough for his hatred,' I said. 'Anyway, from now on I'm taking no chances.'
She went into the galley. I turned and climbed the companion-way to the deck. The weight of the wind hit me as soon as I hauled myself through the hatch. I staggered to the weather rail and looked out into the darkness. Broken wavetops hissed hungrily each time the ship lifted. The sea was a roaring waste of heaving water. Each wave was a tussle between ship and sea and sometimes the sea won, breaking inboard with a crash and seething out through the lee scuppers. Jorgensen was still at the wheel. Dick was huddled beside Curtis in the shelter of the cockpit. 'What are we making by the log?' I asked him.