"It will not be long before daybreak," said I, "and at dawn the coast may be in sight of us, but I do not suppose we shall be in sight of it."
He stood up to look around the sea.
"It is sad," he exclaimed, "that Captain Dopping should have been shot."
"It is shocking," said I.
"You have sole control of the schooner now, Captain Portlack, for my captain I make you," said he. "And the money that I had agreed to pay to Captain Dopping shall be yours, in addition to the fifty guineas as arranged."
I gave him a bow and said, "Thank you." My eyes were fixed upon the motionless girl below; he was able to observe the direction of my gaze by the sheen of the lamp-light, that rose like a haze through the glass and the lifted lid of the skylight.
"How cruel! how cruel!" said he, in a deep yet musical voice, that was not the less thrilling because of a certain indefinable flavor of theatricalism; "how cruel, that I should be obliged to claim what is mine by force, which I find barbarous when I look there," said he, pointing to the figure of his wife, "and when I recall Captain Dopping's cry as he fell lifeless at my side."
"Is your lady dead?" said I.
"No, no, I think not; indeed, I am sure not. She is sunk in a trance or stupor. If she were bled, she would revive; but there is no man on board who has the skill to bleed her."
"She looks to have been very roughly handled."