f fortune favoring Courtenay to the extent of giving him an
opportunity to see the coming danger, it was essential that the ship
should have a certain radius of action apart from the direction and force
of the ocean stream. The two sails were helpful, and it was to assure
himself of their efficiency that he put the helm to starboard. The
_Kansas_ obeyed with an answering roll to port, showing clearly that she
was traveling a little faster than the inrushing tide would take her
unaided. He brought her head back to nor'east again, and glanced over
his shoulder at the ship's chronometer. It was a quarter to one. Two
hours must pass before he would discern the first faint streaks of light.
At any rate, if he were spared to greet the dawn, it would be right
ahead, and, as a few seconds might then be of utmost value, that was a
small point in his favor. Yet, two hours! Could he dare to hope for so
long a respite? How could the ship escape the unnumbered fangs which a
storm-torn land thrust far out into the Pacific for its own protection?

He was quite sheltered from the wind and spray in the chart-house, and,
all at once, he became aware of a burning thirst. There was water in a
decanter close at hand, so he indulged in a long drink. That was
wonderfully vivifying. Then his mind turned longingly to tobacco. For
the first time in his life he broke the strict rule of the service in
which he had been trained--and smoked a cigar while on duty.

Now and again he spoke cheerily to the dog. It would be:

"Well, Joey, here we are; still got a bark in us!" . . . Or, "You and I
must have our names on the Admiralty chart, Joey:--'Channel surveyed by
Captain Courtenay and pup; details uncertain.' How does that sound, old
chap?" And again, "I suppose your friend, Miss Maxwell, is asleep by
this time. If she calls you 'Joey,' do you call her 'Elsie'? I rather
fancy Elsie as a name. What do you think?"

To all of which the dog, who had found a dry corner, would respond with a
smile and a tail-wag. What? Joey couldn't smile! Make a friend of a
fox-terrier and learn what a genuine, whole-hearted, delighted-to-see-you
grin he will favor you with: he can smile as unmistakably as he can yawn.

If deeper emotions peeped up in Courtenay's soul, he crushed them
resolutely. Men of the sea do not cultivate heroics. They leave
sentiment to those imaginative people who evolve eery visions of a storm
in the smug comfort of sub