"There's a box of Turkish delight in my pocket," he continued. "Take it and hand it to the womenfolk. All the joy hasn't gone out of life yet, Sparks. Light up and get happy."
Mostyn did so. Never before had he so appreciated the soothing effect of a cigarette.
In this complaisant state of mind he was addressed by the lascar at the helm.
"Mahometan smoke, Sahib; Sikh, Mahometan, too: him not smoke."
Which resulted in the tip of another cigarette glowing in the darkness.
"I feel a jolly sight better for that," declared Preston gratefully, when the cigarette was finished. "Think I'll have another caulk. S'pose you don't mind?"
"Not at all," replied Peter. "Carry on. It will do you good. Are your bandages comfortable?"
In a few minutes the Acting Chief was slumbering more peacefully than he had done since his accident. Mostyn, left to commune with his own thoughts, squatted on the weather side of the stern-sheets so that he could give an occasional glance at the compass, and keep an eye on the lascar at the tiller.
It was a long trick. It seemed as if the eastern sky would never pale to herald the dawn of another day.
At 4 a.m. the boat was put on the starboard tack, the wind still heading her as before. Then, having trimmed sheets, Mostyn took the tiller and ordered the lascar into the bows.