They went down the beach together, with arms around each other's waists, and their footsteps guided by the still-burning torch lying on the sand. I followed, and in another minute I had the tiller in my hand, and told Tepi to push off, as Tematau ran up the jib.
“How now for the passage?” I cried, as I slipped my arm around Lucia's waist, and her lips met mine, “how now for the passage, Tepi? Canst see? Canst see, Tematau?”
Niâbon placed her hand on mine.
“Have no fear, Simi. The wind is fair and the passage through the reef is wide, and the ship on the right hand is a good guide. See, her masts stand out clear against the sky. And give me the tiller, for thou and Lucia are tired. So sleep—sleep till the dawn, and Tematau and Tepi and I shall keep watch through the night. How shall I steer?”
“North-west, north-west,” I muttered, as Lucia laid her cheek to mine, “north-west, but call me if the wind hauls to the northward.”
She bent oyer Lucia and touched her face softly.
“Sleep, dear one, sleep till dawn,” she said in a whisper, and then with a smile she turned to me.
“Simi, thou too art tired, and must sleep even as Lucia sleepeth now. See, her eyes are closed. How sweet and fair she is as she sleepeth! Ah, how sweet! So, let me touch thy face.” She pressed her soft hand on my brow, and then, with Lucia's head pillowed on my breast, I slept.