“No propeller,” said the girl quietly, and she left her seat and disappeared below, leaving the mate gasping painfully.
Left to himself, he became melancholy, as he realised that the great passion of his life had commenced, and would probably end within a few hours. The engineer came aboard to look at the fires, and, the steamer being now on the soft mud, good-naturedly went down and assisted him to free the propeller before going ashore again. Then he was alone once more, gazing ruefully at the bare deck of the Aquila.
It was past two o’clock in the afternoon before any signs of life other than the blackbird appeared there. Then the girl came on deck again, accompanied by a stout woman of middle age, and an appearance so affable that the mate commenced at once.
“Fine day,” he said pleasantly, as he brought up in front of them.
“Lovely weather,” said the mother, settling herself in her chair and putting down her work ready for a chat. “I hope the wind lasts; we start to-morrow morning’s tide. You’ll get off this afternoon, I s’pose.”
“About five o’clock,” said the mate.
“I should like to try a steamer for a change,” said the mother, and waxed garrulous on sailing craft generally, and her own in particular.
“There’s five of us down there, with my husband and the two boys,” said she, indicating the cabin with her thumb; “naturally it gets rather stuffy.”
The mate sighed. He was thinking that under some conditions there were worse things than stuffy cabins.
“And Nancy’s so discontented,” said the mother, looking at the girl who was reading quietly by her side. “She doesn’t like ships or sailors. She gets her head turned reading those penny novelettes.”