Gartland shrugged. "All right, then. We'll hold our position. We're about a thousand kilos sunward. Maybe I'll offer you a drink, if we've got anything strong enough."
Brace cut the switch without answering and scowled. "Hold your position!" he snapped to the pilot. He then looked at the impassive face of Barrows, studying him. "You're in command," he said finally. Ignoring the mate's curious stare, he turned and left.
Brace stood by the iron ladder in the companionway. "Come down, girl!" he called.
She came slowly down the ladder, then turned and faced him. He looked into those soft, brown eyes again. Cecelia's eyes had been brown. Slowly, his ape-like hand reached into his tunic. She closed her eyes, waited, then opened them again, startled, when the hairy hand pressed a wad of money into her palm.
"W—w—what?"
"Come on!" he said roughly, and took her by the wrist. He led her down the companionway and stopped at the door of the mess room. "Put that stuff away!" he ordered.
Uncomprehending, she obeyed and put the money into the bodice of her costume. Then Brace opened the mess room door and motioned for her to enter.
The second cook saw them, started, and watched apprehensively. When Brace had closed the door, he turned to the second cook. "Come here, you!" he ordered.
Obediently, the cook came forward, eyeing the girl curiously.