“Miss Edith,” I said, with dignity and as much severity as I dared show her, “I am well aware that I have no right to dictate to you, but if you are determined to go sailing in spite of your father’s wishes you will go without me.”
“Do you really mean it?” she asked, with a light laugh and a wicked glint in her eyes. “What a goose you are! Of course I wouldn’t go, but we can compromise. Let’s go out to her and lunch on board. It will be ever so much nicer than the sand, and I have never even stepped on board of a sloop. Can’t we go out to her, Mr. Maxwell?”
“Sartin, miss, but it’s lucky that’s all ye want,” said that worthy. Then, turning to me, he continued:
“The old tub’s ’most used up, Mr. Alan. She broke up a good deal of her riggin’ in the storm last night. That ain’t all, neither. I find the anchor shackle most rusted out and the moorin’ line ’most chafed through. I was just startin’ for a new shackle. Tell you what ye might do, sir, an’ ’twould be a big favor. Let me put you two aboard and then take your hoss to go to the Centre with. That will suit the lady an’ be a savin’ to my legs. I will be back in a shake.”
“Where’s your deck-hand?” I asked, wavering in my determination.
“Gone home sick, sir. Last night used him up.”
Doubts of propriety and prudence were of little avail against the coaxing demands of my companion. She was used to having her way in most things. Nothing but the novelty of taking lunch on board the old fishing-boat would satisfy her, and, as it would not do for me to carry the air of protector too far, it was but a short time before we were on the deck of the vessel, from which we watched Maxwell climb into the wagon and start for the village. The lady’s expression was one of subdued triumph.
I confess that as I saw the little boat pulled high on the beach and realized how completely we were cut off from the land, I was conscious of a feeling that was not one of unalloyed content. From the physical conditions there seemed to be nothing to fear. The water of the Cove was like glass in the hot sunshine, and the vessel as steady as the Rock of Ages; but the situation would certainly become compromising to the fair young girl if our isolation should be generally known, and, though I was willing enough to shoot at folly as it flew, I was in hopes that the absence of Maxwell would not be prolonged, and so set to work to entertain and enlighten Miss Edith, who was a very child in her curiosity and her demands to have it satisfied.
The Flying Fish, a fearful misnomer, was an old acquaintance of mine, and was typical of her class. Clean enough on deck, she was an abomination of vile smells below, the combination of fish, clams and bilge-water making a forcible compound. The inevitable scuttle-butt of fresh water stood before the mast, and forward was a mass of rusty chain cable, tangled gear, mops, winch-handles, buckets and the anchor, the latter secured with a piece of rope.
In the stern of the boat the conditions were improved. The long tiller projected into the roomy cockpit, the seats of which were as clean as water could make them, while overhead the broken boom with its loose sail made a wide strip of shade that was very acceptable.