How much the Delaware was injured it was impossible to tell, for she did not return to the attack. Steadily the distance increased between the two ships, and before night came, the last trace of the frigate was discerned from the mast head, disappearing over the horizon.
Much against her will Helen had remained in her stateroom during the whole of the contest. She had not appeared on deck that day when the Delaware was first seen, and the order to clear the decks given. After the battle, however, she went to the prow of the boat with Harold, in time to see the clipper's heels gradually disappearing.
"Are you glad it is over?" he asked, as he slipped his arm around her.
"I suppose I should be," was her answer, fixing her eyes on the distant frigate, "but I don't know that I am. It was audacious for a little thing like that to attack a big war vessel like the North King. They have killed some of our men, too; a pity you didn't give them a thrashing. Perhaps you couldn't?"
"Why, Helen, what a fighter you are!"
"I came by it naturally, I suppose." This time she laughed. "If the feeling had not been inherited, perhaps I would not have been willing to have come with you at all."
"And now you cannot turn back even if you want to."
"But, dearie, I don't and never did."
"Not even when the enemy were killing our men?" he asked, looking earnestly into her eyes.
"No, not even then," she said; "but I think Sir George might have let me come on deck."