Big French took the hand that was resting on his sleeve in one big fist and his other arm slid round the girl’s waist unhindered.
“Sue,” he said softly, “will ye——”
“Sho I stayed wi’ me rum and me shea,”
sang Gilbot, suddenly waking up from the doze he had fallen into. “Shue,” he called, “more rum, lass.”
The girl jumped up to obey him, and Big French swore softly under his breath.
Two or three seamen entered the kitchen at this moment, and, after saluting Gilbot, called for drinks and settled themselves in the high-backed seats on either side of the fire. They began to talk noisily of their own affairs.
Sue opened an inner door and called for more lights. Gilbot, happy with his rum, continued to sing.
Big French rose slowly to his feet. He was an enormous figure, some six feet five inches tall and proportionately broad; his face as the light from the dripping candles fell on it showed clearly cut and very handsome. He wore his hair long and his chin had never been shaved, so that his beard was as silky as his hair, curly and of the colour of clear honey. He walked over to the door after exchanging greetings with the rowdy crew at the fireside, and lifted the latch. On the threshold he was met by Hal and Anny.
They had walked briskly, and the cool air had brought the colour to the girl’s face and, as she stood there, the men at the fireside, instead of clamouring for the door to be shut and the draught stayed, sat looking at her in silent admiration.
Hal Grame, standing just behind her, was the first to speak. He stepped forward, shutting the door behind him.