“Look here, Charles, you ought not to go ashore to-day.”
“Why not?” said his friend. “It’s the end of everything.”
“Her marriage was the end of everything,” said Perrin. “Look here, man, you’re coming this cruise to get rid of your sorrow. Don’t go ashore and begin it all over again. You’ll only upset yourself, and very likely give her pain.”
“You don’t understand, Edward,” said Margaret. “She has been my whole life for four years. If I could. I don’t know. If I could, it might be wiser to go away without a word. Ah, no, no. I can’t. You can’t cut off a part of your life like that. I must go.”
“Well, then,” said Perrin, “I insist on coming with you. You’ll just see her, and come away. I’m weak, I know, and all that; but I will save you from making ducks and drakes of your life. If you see her, you’ll see her with me. But I think you’re very unwise, Charles. If you weren’t owner, I’d clap you in irons and put to sea. I know one thing. If you see her, no good’ll come of it. Look here, man; do drop her, and let’s get away while the wind holds.”
“No. I must see her,” said Margaret stubbornly. “And I couldn’t have you with me. That’s impossible.”
“Why impossible?”
“Because. Well, we won’t talk of that. My mind is made up. By the way, Edward, you were up very early, weren’t you?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to see the sunrise. I’ve heard so much about sunrise at sea. And I got into talk with the captain. I told him a little about our plans. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No. I’m glad. We shall have to go into that to-night. By the way, Edward, I want you, after this, to stand two watches a day. I shall do the same. We must learn what stuff our men are made of before we reach Virginia; for in Virginia we shall have to weed out our crew. We can have no skulkers where we are going.”