“I hope you have slept, mademoiselle, and are feeling better,” he said.
“Yes, monsieur, thanks to your great kindness,” answered Yvonne, trying to smile, “but is not the other ship getting very far ahead? She seems to sail much faster than we do.”
“On the contrary, my dear young lady,” said John Stayner, “the ‘Good Hope’ is much the faster ship of the two. We shall overhaul them, with this breeze, one hour before noon.”
“Will we?” cried Yvonne, with other questions crowding into her eyes and voice.
The stern mouth smiled with understanding kindness.
“If we do not, I promise you I will signal them to wait,” said he. “I find three families on this ship whose men-folk are on the other. It was great carelessness on some one’s part. I will send them in the boat with you, mademoiselle,—and gather in as many blessings as I can out of this whole accursed business.”
“As long as I live, monsieur, there will be one woman at least ever blessing you and praying for your happiness.” And suddenly seizing his hand in both of hers Yvonne pressed it to her lips.
A look of boyish embarrassment came over his weather-beaten face.
“Don’t do that, child!” he stammered. Then, looking with a quizzical interest at the spot she had kissed, he went on: “This old hand is something rough and tarry for a woman’s lips. But do you know, now, I kind of think more of it, rough as it is, than I ever did before. If ever, child, you should want a friend in that country of ours you’re going to, remember that Captain John Stayner, of Machias, Maine, is at your call.”
To escape thanks he strode off abruptly, with a loud order on his lips.