“Pretty bad, mem. He’s got a long cut down his cheek.”
Nina laid a hand on her heart, and leaned up against the wall. “When did it happen?”
“Between eleven and twelve. You see he was walkin’ toward the bridge. He didn’t notice a heavy sea boardin’. It knocked him down; he struck an iron bar and lost some blood. But the doctor fixed him.”
“Is he—is he walking about?” asked Nina, with a white face, and stammering as she usually did when much moved.
“Yes, mem, but I guess he’ll go to bed now it’s turned fine. He don’t rest much in storms.”
Nina suddenly became absent-minded, and the woman took her departure. Left alone, she indulged in a guilty shudder and a confused soliloquy. Probably she had been the cause of this accident. ’Steban, horrified at last evening’s escapade in which she had been so blameless, had rushed on deck, and, blinded by rage, had forgotten to be watchful and had been struck down. He might have been killed; in which case she would have been the cause of his death.
In a transport of compassion and fear she drew her cloak about her and clambered on deck. She paused in the doorway and looked out. Storms leave their traces, and though the sky was so clear the sea had by no means calmed down; and the Merrimac rolled steadily from side to side, her decks for the greater part of the time covered with water. Nina could not get out. Planks about two feet high were placed on the thresholds of the doors to keep the water from coming in. If she ventured out it would be at the risk of being washed overboard. In deep discontent she stared about her. No one passed until some sailors came to heave the log. She watched the long line reeling out, then mechanically counted the knots as it was pulled in. The cheerful “heave ho” of the men’s voices prevented her from hearing some one splashing through the water. Not until a shadow darkened the doorway did she turn around. Captain Fordyce was just passing. His appearance was so unexpected and so singular that it drew from her a nervous, hysterical laugh.
The sickly hue of his face changed slightly, and he hastened his steps to get away from the sound of her voice.
“Oh, how bad I am!” she ejaculated. “He will think I am making fun of him, and I am so sorry. I must get out;” and, desperately climbing and scrambling over the planks, she fell into a wave that was running down the deck. The water surged coldly around her ankles; she felt herself slipping. The sailors had finished their work and were going away. The only person in sight was the rubber-clad form disappearing around a distant capstan.
“Captain Fordyce!” she called, despairingly.