. This
seemed such a convenient substitute for "never," that he was not
surprised to get no answer save a sound like "Tchah!"

"The fog's lifting," he remarked absently. It was. He could already see
a number of stars above his head through the thinning vapour. "I'll
leave you," he added, "must get some sleep. However," he went on, "we'll
have another look at the bilges. I got a certificate to lose as well as
you--if you've got one."

The captain remained in obscurity, and made no reply.

"I mean, if you haven't had it endorsed, or suspended, or any little
thing like that."

There was no answer, and tiring of the sport, Mr. Spokesly picked up the
hurricane lamp and went down again to sound the starboard bilge. He was
getting very tired physically, now the reaction from the excitement of
the collision had set in. He found the sounding-rod, neatly chalked,
ready to lower. Very decent party, that engineer, he reflected. Rather
disconcerting though in his almost perfect neutrality. The wife and the
big family out at Cospicua, which is near Valletta, seemed to be a
powerful resolvent of sentimental ideas. For such a man there was
nothing of any permanence in the world to compare with a permanent
billet. His loyalty was to his job rather than to abstract principles of
nationality. Well! The rod showed two feet eight inches. Mr. Spokesly
breathed more easily. He had got his pumps going, then. He decided to go
aft. Yes, the fog was clearing.

In the stress of the crisis through which he was passing, the mysterious
and exacerbating strife going on between himself and the captain, Mr.
Spokesly seemed to himself to be separated from Evanthia as by a
transparent yet impassable barrier. The insignificance of such a
creature in the face of a material disaster as had been impending
appalled him. He saw with abrupt clarity how, if the ship had been
mortally hit, and if there had been any manner of struggle to save their
lives, she would not have sustained the part of fainting heroine rescued
by lion-hearted men, or that of heroic comrade taking her place in the
peril beside them. Nothing of the sort. She would have got into the boat
and commanded the crew to row away with her at once. She did not know
that Plouff was gone, and if he went down and told her, she would not
care a flip of her fingers. That, he was surprised to realize, was part
of her charm. She was so entirely pagan in her attitude towards men. She
was one of those w