“Thank ye, sir,” roared the sailor, and with that the row-boats swarmed inward pirate-like, boarding the steamer from all quarters.
As the master turned, he looked down from his bridge to the deck below, full into the face of Dextry, who had been an intent witness of the meeting. With unbending dignity, Captain Stephens let his left eyelid droop slowly, while a boyish grin spread widely over his face. Simultaneously, orders rang sharp and fast from the bridge, the crew broke into feverish life, the creak of booms and the clank of donkey-hoists arose.
“We’re here, Miss Stowaway,” said Glenister, entering the girl’s cabin. “The inspector passed us and it’s time for you to see the magic city. Come, it’s a wonderful sight.”
This was the first time they had been alone since the scene on the after-deck, for, besides ignoring Glenister, she had managed that he should not even see her except in Dextry’s presence. Although he had ever since been courteous and considerate, she felt the leaping emotions that were hidden within him and longed to leave the ship, to fly from the spell of his personality. Thoughts of him made her writhe, and yet when he was near she could not hate him as she willed—he overpowered her, he would not be hated, he paid no heed to her slights. This very quality reminded her how willingly and unquestioningly he had fought off the sailors from the Ohio at a word from her. She knew he would do so again, and more, and it is hard to be bitter to one who would lay down his life for you, even though he has offended—particularly when he has the magnetism that sweeps you away from your moorings.
“There’s no danger of being seen,” he continued. “The crowd’s crazy, and, besides, we’ll go ashore right away. You must be mad with the confinement—it’s on my nerves, too.”
As they stepped outside, the door of an adjacent cabin opened, framing an angular, sharp-featured woman, who, catching sight of the girl emerging from Glenister’s state-room, paused with shrewdly narrowed eyes, flashing quick, malicious glances from one to the other. They came later to remember with regret this chance encounter, for it was fraught with grave results for them both.
“Good-evening, Mr. Glenister,” the lady said with acid cordiality.
“Howdy, Mrs. Champian?” He moved away.
She followed a step, staring at Helen.
“Are you going ashore to-night or wait for morning?”