"Thank you so much," said Olive gratefully, and almost unconsciously she laid her hand lightly upon Peter's arm.
A thrill of pleasure swept across the Wireless Officer's mind. Then, as if to seal the compact, the tropical sun in all its glory appeared above the rim of the horizon.
"I'm not a woman," exclaimed a strident voice from inside the tent. "I'm a lady. I am really. My father was a naval officer—a captain."
The man and the girl looked at each other. Olive's face was wreathed in smiles. Peter actually winked. In the Eden that he had created the presence of the Serpent was of no account.
CHAPTER XXVII
Aground
The rest of the day until four in the afternoon passed almost uneventfully. The breeze still held, but blew steadily from the same quarter with hardly a point difference in eighteen hours. With one reef in the mainsail the boat had all she could carry with comfort, and, save for an occasional fleck of foam over the weather bow, was dry and fairly fast.
The disconcerting doubt in Peter's mind was whether the boat was making good to wind'ard. Apparently she was, but whether the leeway counter-balanced the distance made good, or whether the boat was actually losing on each tack remained at present an insolvable problem.
During the greater part of the day the heat of the sun was tempered by the cool breeze, but late in the afternoon more indigo-coloured clouds began to bank up to the east'ard. The roseate hues of early morn were about to vindicate themselves as harbingers of boisterous weather.