But that morning, after they had settled to bridge, she followed me to the rail, out of earshot I straightened and took off my cap, and she stood looking at me, unsmiling.
“Unclench your hands!” she said.
“I beg your pardon!” I straightened out my fingers, conscious for the first time of my clenched fists, and even opened and closed them once or twice to prove their relaxation.
“That’s better. Now—won’t you try to remember that I am responsible for your being here, and be careful?”
“Then take me away from here and put me with the crew. I am stronger now. Ask the captain to give me a man’s work. This—this is a housemaid’s occupation.”
“We prefer to have you here,” she said coldly; and then, evidently repenting her manner: “We need a man here, Leslie. Better stay. Are you comfortable in the forecastle?”
“Yes, Miss Lee.”
“And the food is all right?”
“The cook says I am eating two men’s rations.”
She turned to leave, smiling. It was the first time she had thrown even a fleeting smile my way, and it went to my head.