XXXIV
"We shall have a visit from our next-door neighbour presently, I expect," said Wulfrey, when The Girl came out of her cabin next morning. "Will you mind stopping below while I dispose of him?"
"But why?"
"He puts things coarsely at times, and he will probably be in a very bad humour at having to get his own meals ready."
"I don't mind him."
"Nor do I, except on your account. But I shall feel happier if you are out of sight and hearing."
"Oh, very well. But nothing he could say would trouble me in the slightest."
So, after breakfast, she sat down on the cabin floor to her sewing, and he lit his pipe and went up on deck carrying his axe. He closed the companion-doors and hatch very quietly—but she heard him—and went forward into the bows, which, since the usual wind blew from the south-west, was the nearest point to the 'Jane and Mary.'
It was a long time before the mate showed any signs, beyond an extra rush of smoke when he made up his fire to cook his breakfast. But he came up at last, caught sight of Wulfrey, and stood scowling across at him for a time. Then he dropped down on to his raft and came wobbling, with quick angry strokes, across to the 'Martha.'
"So that's it, is it?" he growled, with a grim look on his dark face.