Ah! the secret was not hard to discover.
I was no longer the reckless rover, with a memory to drown; I had something to live for now, and life showed a rosy tint.
Besides, I was concerned, not on account of myself, but for the precious one who was my guest—for Hildegarde.
When I made my way on deck I found that a wonderful transformation had taken place in those few hours.
Where I had sat and dreamed, and where she had come to me in the still watches of the night, like a spirit from another world, no man could stay and live—the awning had been stowed away, the easy-chairs put below in the cabin, and now the deck was reeking with spume blown from the monstrous waves that rushed on high around us, as if eager to swallow the boat that seemed so like a cork on the angry sea.
I was greatly impressed by the sight, which was certainly wild enough to please the most ardent lover of stormy scenery.
Once I had been inclined that way, but now a peaceful calm would have satisfied me better.
The first person discovered was Robbins.
He had secured himself with a twist of rope, and was watching the behavior of the yacht.
Accustomed as he was to an entirely different class of vessel, I could see even in the gray light of early morning that my old friend looked worried.