“Oh, don't say that! You've been so brave. Anyhow, we'll die together, that's a comfort.”
“Pashy,” said Captain Perez solemnly, “it's mighty good to hear you say that.”
It is, perhaps, needless to explain that the “dying” portion of the lady's speech was not that referred to by the Captain; the word “together” was what appealed to him. Miss Patience apparently understood.
“Is it?” she said softly.
“Yes—yes, 'tis.” The arm holding the coat about the lady's shoulder tightened just a little. The Captain had often dreamed of something like this, but never with quite these surroundings. However, he was rapidly becoming oblivious to such trivial details as surroundings.
“Pashy,” he said huskily, “I've been thinkin' of you consider'ble lately. Fact is, I—I—well, I come down to-day a-purpose to ask you somethin'. I know it's a queer place to ask it, and—and I s'pose it's kind of sudden, but—will—will you—Breakers! by mighty!”
The carryall had suddenly begun to rock, and there were streaks of foam about it. Now, it gave a most alarming heave, grounded, swung clear, and tipped yet more.
“We're capsizin',” yelled Perez. “Hang on to me, Pashy!”
But Miss Patience didn't intend to let this, perhaps the final opportunity, slip. As she told her brother afterward, she would have made him say it then if they had been “two fathom under water.”
“Will I what, Perez?” she demanded.