“What–ah–may I ask, do you mean by that?”
Blake laughed harshly, and pointed from the reef-strewn sea to the vast stretches of desolate marsh. Far inland, across miles of brackish lagoons and reedy mud-flats, could be seen groups of scrubby, half-leafless trees; ten or twelve miles to the southward a rocky headland jutted out into the water; otherwise there was nothing in sight but sea and swamp. If it could not properly be termed a sea-view, it was at least a very wet landscape.
“Fine prospect,” remarked Blake, dryly. “We’ll be in luck if the fever don’t get the last of us inside a month; and as for you two, you’d have as much show of lasting a month as a toad with a rattlesnake, if it wasn’t for Tom Blake,–that’s my name–Tom Blake,–and as long as this shindy lasts, you’re welcome to call me Tom or Blake, whichever suits. But understand, we’re not going to have any more of your bloody, bloomin’ English condescension. Aboard ship you had the drop on me, and could pile on dog till the cows came home. Here I’m Blake, and you’re Winthrope.”
“Believe me, Mr. Blake, I quite appreciate the–ah–situation. And now, I fancy that, instead of wasting time–”
“It’s about time you introduced me to the lady,” interrupted Blake, and he stared at them half defiantly, yet with a twinkle in his eyes.
Miss Leslie flushed. Winthrope swore softly, and bit his lip. Aboard ship, backed by Lady Bayrose and the captain, he had goaded the American at pleasure. Now, however, the situation was reversed. Both title and authority had been swept away by the storm, and he was left to shift for himself against the man who had every reason to hate him for his overbearing insolence. Worse still, both he and Miss Leslie were now dependent upon the American, in all probability for life itself. It was a bitter pill and hard to swallow.
Blake was not slow to observe the Englishman’s hesitancy. He grinned.
“Every dog has his day, and I guess this is mine,” he said. “Take your time, if it comes hard. I can imagine it’s a pretty stiff dose for your ludship. But why in–why in frozen hades an American lady should object to an introduction to a countryman who’s going to do his level best to save her pretty little self from the hyenas–well, it beats me.”
Winthrope flushed redder than the girl.
“Miss Leslie, Mr. Blake,” he murmured, hoping to put an end to the situation.