'Mr. Tregarthen's strength has been overtaxed, father,' said she.
'Poor man! poor man!' he cried. 'God will bless him. He has suffered much for us.'
'It must be a weakness, following my having been stunned,' said I, ashamed of myself that I should be in need of a girl's pity at such a time—the pity of a girl, too, who was sharing my labours and danger.
'What have you to tell me, Helga?' exclaimed the captain.
She answered him in Danish, and they exchanged some sentences in that tongue.
'She is a tight ship,' cried the captain, addressing me: 'it is good news,' he went on, his white countenance lighted up with an expression of exultation, 'to hear that you two should be able to control the water in the hold. Does the weather seem to moderate?'
'No,' said I; 'it blows as hard as ever it did.'
'Does the sea break aboard?'
'There is plenty of water washing about,' said I, 'but the vessel seems to be making a brave fight.'
'When daylight comes, Helga,' said he, 'you will hoist a distress colour at the mizzen-peak. If the peak be wrecked or the halliards gone, the flag must be seized to the mizzen shrouds.'