"Crack on," he said; and they set more sail.
Presently there came another of those mighty rollers. She took it over her bows, a flood of green water, and it came roaring aft. Again there was the sound of many waters, more mighty yet, as hawse pipes and scuppers spouted forth their loads.
Captain Fergus looked up at the masts. "Crack on," he said again. And he got up and wandered to and fro across the deck, gazing up at the masts and at the men setting the light sails.
"She'd do better," he said, stopping for an instant by my chair, "if I hadn't had to put that confounded engine in her. You wouldn't believe what a drag a screw is, even when it is feathering."
She was doing well enough. All her light sails were set, and she was furnished forth with all her frills and furbelows, so that there was no place where she could carry another stitch. She bent to her business and sailed. And Captain Fergus smiled a smile of satisfaction—in spite of that dragging screw.
Pukkie had left his comfortable chair, and was leaning against my knee, saying nothing, but looking back at me now and then, his face a study. It was a pleasure just to watch him. Captain Fergus seemed to find it so, and Elizabeth had been watching him for some time.
"Come, young man," Captain Fergus said suddenly. "Don't you want to walk a while with me—to pace the deck with measured tread, while what-you-may-call-it on the dead? Eh?"
And Pukkie smiled more than ever—if that were possible—and jumped and joined him; and they walked—paced the deck with measured tread for some time in solemn silence. Captain Fergus would glance aloft, and Pukkie would glance aloft; and at last I smiled and Elizabeth laughed.