And she had trusted him implicitly, from the first moment she had looked into his eyes, and recognised that it must be he who had drawn her back out of the closing hand of death.
"Better put that on," said Wulfrey, dropping one of the coats over her shoulders, when they had got everything aboard.
"Why? I am quite warm."
"We have done our work now till we get to the spit. No good chilling in the wind. We're going to sail home," and he slipped on the other jacket, and proceeded to rig up a sail and a steering plank as he had seen the mate do.
The Girl broke into a laugh at the change for the worse produced in their appearance by the jackets.
"You looked like a Greek or a Roman before," she said. "Now we both look like gipsy tinkers."
"Fine feathers—fine birds?" he smiled, as they hauled out past the end of the pile and began lumbering slowly homewards.
"Those awful birds!" and she glanced anxiously round for them, but they were busy a mile away and troubled them no more.
XXXIII
The Girl was glad enough of her old coat before they reached the spit, in spite of its demoralising effect on her appearance,—glad even to snuggle down among the blankets, for, after the hard work of loading, even the south-west wind began presently to feel cool.