"Isn't there something else, dearheart? What is it you wish you had?"
"A good cigar—a big, fat, black fellow!" he laughed. "Then, the world would be complete." His glance interpreted his meaning.
"But there is tobacco aboard to chew," she suggested with a smile.
"I never attempted to chew tobacco but once in my life. I was only a little fellow visiting my grandmother's. The gardener provided it, or rather I took it from his workbench. Just as I settled down to prove to myself that I was a man grandmother called me into the house. I was caught. In my fear I swallowed the cud." He made a wry face and then went on in a dreamy way: "During the storm—whether it was last night or the night before, I can't remember—I thought if I could only get a piece of tobacco to chew there was no storm that blew that could put me down. Funny, wasn't it?"
Emily was silent, nor did Paul seem to notice it. She could think only of what his stress of mind must have been during those long black hours.
It was his last personal reference that evening to what had happened during the two nights and a day of the Daphne's war with the sea. She felt that he did not wish to speak of it. Nor did she.
"As soon as the stars come out I am going to find out where we are——" Emily interrupted him with a laugh. "Where the Daphne is," he added, catching her thought, and joining her laugh.
"I am with the stars, Paul. I feel as if we were alone in space together."
She was standing beside him, looking out through the galley door at the setting sun. He stooped and kissed the crown of her head reverently.
He told her presently that it was more important to put the bark in a condition to get away from where she was than to find out where she was. One thing was certain: the Daphne had plenty of sea room. The weather promised fair and therewith he summoned all his strength to take advantage of it.