"Mind you," went on the mate, "I ain't grouchin', but, all the same, I'd like to know where this dance is going to end. Is he goin' to tote us all over the Pacific for the fun of stoppin' ships and letting 'em go again? And where's the prize-money that we were goin' to get such lashings of?"
A stentorian snore was the only reply, and Mr. Dykes, realising that the engineer was fast asleep, suppressed a desire to administer him a hearty kick, and left the cabin. Outside he came upon Miss Fletcher sitting on a camp-stool at the door of the cabin that had once been his.
"What's the matter? You're looking very serious," she said.
Mr. Dykes paused, and, leaning his back against the opposite bulkhead, stuck both hands in his pockets and assumed an air of weary resignation.
"I was jest tryin' to figger out whether we're on a yachtin' trip or whether the old man is jest dodgin' about for the sake of his health," he answered.
The girl looked puzzled.
"I don't understand," she said.
The mate heaved a sigh and sat down on the cabin step beside her. In spite of that past episode when he had forgotten himself, they were on very friendly terms. She did not appear to resent or even to remember the incident, probably because she knew that Mr. Dykes had learnt his lesson and would be more discreet in future. Certainly she had not reported the matter to Calamity, as he had at first feared she would, and this fact raised her in his esteem as much as the blow between the eyes had done. In fact, he had a very healthy respect for this self-possessed young woman.
"I don't understand what you mean," she reiterated.
Whereupon Mr. Dykes repeated more or less what he had said to the engineer concerning the Captain's apparent want of enterprise.