"Of course both circumstances worked hand in hand. Doubtless, neither by itself would have deterred Fairbanks. In any event, it's no use repining."
"You are very kind, señora. Curse it all anyway!" After several moments in which neither spoke, Farquharson continued: "Well, Brown; good old Brown. He's a mighty decent fellow, true to his colors, and fights as fair as the rest of us."
They halted their horses. Beneath them, a little to the right, was a group of cabins belonging to fisher folk, smoke arising from the chimneys, telling of warmth and crude comfort inside. The boats of the habitants, high drawn up, were securely fastened to their moorings.
The wind roared and hissed and fumed. The señora and the Captain seemed not to heed it. They were looking, straight-eyed, out to the lashing sea whereon lay their hopes and their fears.
"Captain, your friend Brown found his way to Fairbanks's ship. No?"
"Yes, Brown—tumbled—on board."
Their horses were side by side, yet Farquharson's voice sounded muffled through the howling wind.
"Ah! tumbled. Yes. Still, he gained the Admiral's ear. No?"
"Fate threw the game in Brown's favor, and against us."
"Fate causes the daring one to win; the laggard, to lose. Is it not so?" raising her shoulders and waving a hand, with the grace of the Latin and the art of a beautiful woman.