I noticed that Blythe was taking in sail and that the wind was rising.
"Knock the irons off the Flemings and send Gallagher down into the engine room to stoke for them. We'll need more hands. This thing is going to hit us like a wall of wind soon," he told me.
When I returned from the forecastle the sea had risen. As I was standing on the bridge a voice called my name. I looked down to see Evelyn on the promenade deck in a long, close-fitting waterproof coat, her hair flying a little wildly in the breeze. In the face upturned to mine was a very vivid interest.
"We're in for it. There's going to be a real squall," she cried delightedly.
I stepped down and tucked her arm under mine, for the deck was already tipping in the heavy run of seas.
Most of our canvas was in, and the booming wind was humming through the rest with growing power. The Argos put her nose into the whitecaps and ran like a racer, for the engines were shaking the yacht as she plowed forward.
The young woman turned to me an eager, mobile face into which the wind had whipped a rich color.
"What would you take to be somewhere else? Back in your stuffy old law office, say?"
The lurch of the staggering yacht threw her forward so that the lithe, supple body leaned against me and the breath of the dimpling lips was in my nostrils.
Just an instant she lay there, with that smile of warm eyes and rose-leaf mouth to tantalize me, before she recovered and drew back.