I'll relieve you at two o'clock. Time
enough to change the course then."

"All right, sir."

Captain Rannie gave a rapid glance round at the diverging shores as they
opened out into the Gulf, and turned away abruptly. Mr. Spokesly heard
him descending, heard him unlock his door with a series of complicated
clicks and rattles, heard him slam and relock it, and finally the
vigorous jingle of curtain rings as he drew the curtain across.

Mr. Spokesly struck a match and lit the binnacle lamp, a tiny affair
which shone inward upon the vibrating surface of the card. He did not
attempt to walk up and down. His moods never demanded that of him.
Perhaps it would be better to say his nature did not demand it. He was
feeling much better than he had been all day. He had been nervous about
Evanthia's safety in that room. Had had to make some bullying remarks to
the steward about trying to get in where he had no business. To the
puzzled creature's stammering explanations he had replied with more
bullying: "Keep out. Don't come down here at all until I say you can."
The steward had come to the conclusion that in addition to a crazy
skipper whose room smelt of hashish and florida water, they now had a
crazy mate who had something in his room he was ashamed of.

And yet Mr. Spokesly need have had no fear. Evanthia lay in her bunk all
day. She knew perfectly well that she must remain within that room as
one dead until the ship got outside. So she lay there, her eyes half
closed, listening to the sounds of men and machinery, the sunlight
screened by the yellow curtain tacked over the little round window, hour
after hour all day, with a stoicism that had in it something oriental.
It was about an hour past noon when there had come a smart thump on the
door. She had got out and listened and the sharp whisper outside had
reassured her. And when she had slipped the bolt and opened the door a
few inches, Mr. Spokesly had thrust a glass of wine and a tin box of
biscuits upon the wash-stand and pulled the door shut. And she had got
back into the bunk and lay munching, and smiling, and sometimes kissing
the emerald ring on her finger, the ring which was sailing out once more
into the darkness. And as the day wore on, she peeped out and saw the
tug go away with its empty lighter, heard the ominous thutter and thump
of a gasolene launch under her, and heard the arrival of strangers who
entered the cabin overhead. And then the clink of a glass.