"Good-night," she answered, and the engineer left the chart-room. When he had gone the girl took from a drawer a chart, pencil, and parallel rulers, and, sitting down, marked out the ship's course. This done, she wrote up the log and then stepped out on to the bridge, just as two relief quartermasters came up to take the wheel over.
"I shall only want one man at the wheel now," she said. "The storm, I think, has passed over."
A little later on, when she was taking off her sea-boots in the chart-room preparatory to lying down, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," she said.
It was McPhulach, who, with an oilskin over his pyjamas, stood at the door.
"I jest wanted to mak' sairtain, Miss Fletcher, that ye didna misunderstand me a whiles back," he said anxiously.
"Misunderstand what?" she asked in surprise.
"Weel, I'd like tae mak' it clear that I didna propose tae ye. I wouldna like ye tae attach any false hope to what I said aboot marryin' ye mesel' gin I was able. It were jest a wee bit joke, ye'll ken."
She reassured him concerning her intentions, and the engineer, with a sigh of relief, returned to his bunk.