My fears had been vain and foolish. Flora sat in her arm-chair at the stove, just as I had so often seen her in the kitchen of Captain Fishley, as calm and composed as though she had been on the dry land. Opposite her Sim Gwynn sat on the floor, fat and happy, and wholly undisturbed.
"What are you about, Sim?" I demanded, sharply; for I was vexed to see him taking it so coolly, while I had almost worried the life out of me.
"About nothin'; been waiting for you," replied my deck hand, with his customary grin.
"What did you let the raft go adrift for?"
"I didn't let it go adrift."
"Why didn't you keep her up to the shore?"
"She kept herself there."
"No, she didn't."
"Well, she's here—isn't she?"
"She is here, just where she ought not to be," I added, puzzled by the apparent stupidity of Sim. "You ought to stay outside when I leave you to take care of her."