The hermit, in spite of his injuries, had recovered his wonted appearance, if not his wonted vigour. Winnie seemed to have suddenly developed into a mature woman under her recent experiences, though she had lost none of her girlish grace and attractiveness. As for Moses—time and tide seemed to have no effect whatever on his ebony frame, and still less, if possible, on his indomitable spirit.
“Now you keep still,” he said in solemn tones and with warning looks to Spinkie. “If you keep fidgitin’ about you’ll capsize de boat. You hear?”
Spinkie veiled his real affection for the negro under a look of supreme indifference, while Winnie went off into a sudden giggle at the idea of such a small creature capsizing the boat.
Mindful of his father’s warning, Nigel did his best to “haul off” and to prevent his “figurehead” from going “by the board.” But he found it uncommonly hard work, for Winnie looked so innocent, so pretty, so unconscious, so sympathetic with everybody and everything, so very young, yet so wondrously wise and womanly, that he felt an irresistible desire to prostrate himself at her feet in abject slavery.
“Dear little thing,” said Winnie, putting her hand on Spinkie’s little head and smoothing him down from eyes to tail.
Spinkie looked as if half inclined to withdraw his allegiance from Moses and bestow it on Winnie, but evidently changed his mind after a moment’s reflection.
“O that I were a monkey!” thought Nigel, paraphrasing Shakespeare, “that I might—” but it is not fair to our hero to reveal him in his weaker moments!
There was something exasperating, too, in being obliged, owing to the size of the boat, to sit so close to Winnie without having a right to touch her hand! Who has not experienced this, and felt himself to be a very hero of self-denial in the circumstances?
“Mos’ awrful hot!” remarked Moses, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
“You hot!” said Nigel in surprise. “I thought nothing on earth could be too hot for you.”