While Emily busied herself about the galley, Paul renewed the fire under the donkey boiler.
"Bully old crew," he said to the engine and patting its piston in the familiar way men come to treat inanimate things which serve them. "Only you can't go aloft. You can set sail, but you can't furl it. But you're not going to fail us. You won't, will you?"
He was starting aft to fill the lamps there when Emily came to the engine room door. The impulse of action that was driving him was in her, too.
"Only give me something to do, Paul, and I'll do it just like a real sailorman."
"Keep your eye on this steam gauge. When it goes to sixty, open the fire door. It mightn't be a bad idea if you learned to sound the ship. There's the sounding rod on that hook. You will find the well between the pumps. Come. I'll show you."
"I know where it is," she said eagerly.
A half-foot of water was sloshing in the port alleyway and in and out of the rooms opening upon it as Paul entered the cabin. He found the plug of a scupper just inside the door and pulled it out. Glancing out on deck, he saw the vent of another scupper. He located this in the mate's room. As he pulled the plug free and withdrew his hand a sheet of paper stuck to it. Half curiously he carried it into the after saloon where he filled the lamps which would be most useful. It was some writing of the poor Sussex lad's, was his thought. As he lighted the first lamp the paper caught his eye again. He picked it up. The first line startled him and led his eyes leaping through the rest of the water-blurred text in a breathless comprehension.
"In the name of God, Amen: Being of sound and disposing mind, I, Emily Granville, spinster, of San Francisco, California, do declare this my last will and testament: After the payment of all just debts the rest, residue and remainder of my estate, real and personal, wherever it may be, of which I die possessed, is bequeathed to Paul Lavelle, sometimes called Whitridge. I hereby revoke all wills heretofore made by me. In the event of the said Paul Lavelle, sometimes called Whitridge, not surviving, I direct that one-fourth of my entire estate be divided, share and share alike, among those named in said former wills and that the three-fourths remainder be converted by the State into a fund to be used and administered by the State for the succor and assistance of all persons, regardless of race or creed, who may suffer by disaster upon any of the seas. I further direct that this fund shall be known as the Lavelle-Granville fund. If any heir under the said former wills shall contest this will, Paul Lavelle surviving or not surviving, they shall forfeit to him or the said fund any interest they may have had or may claim in the said estate and receive $1. I do this in the realization of the imminent peril of death and as a testimony to the genuine manhood of Paul Lavelle; and also in memory of my father. My faith is that Paul Lavelle in justice must survive and that this will shall come to the eyes of men properly and without suspicion. The language I have used is remembered from my father's will with the hope that it will be binding legally.
"Aboard the bark Daphne at sea, March 31, 191-.
"Emily Granville."
Paul Lavelle read this wonderful document a second and even a third time. It was epic in his sight. He really had no distinct thought. His mind was whelmed by awe of the character of the gold woman which the wet sheet of paper revealed. There came to him a picture of her writing at the desk in Elston's room on the evening of the day they had come aboard the Daphne. It was then that she had written this will. He kissed the paper because it seemed part of her and then tore it into little bits.
Emily was withdrawing the sounding rod from the well when Paul returned to the deck. Plainly she was in distress.