e against that perverse fate the which was driving me whither it
would. So, crouched chin on fist, scowling across these tempestuous
waters (for though the wind was fallen the seas ran very high) within
myself I cursed Adam Penfeather and all his works.

"You are hungry, Martin!" Turning about I beheld my companion sitting
up regarding me with eyes that belied her solemn mouth.

"How should you know this?"

"You frown, Martin! Though the storm is done and we alive, yet you
frown! Have patience and you shall eat and sleep."

"I want neither one nor other!" I began.

"And you are wet, Martin!"

"'Tis no matter!"

"And cold!"

"The sun shall warm me."

"So you shall eat, and lie here i' the sunshine, and sleep!" And away
she goes to vanish under the dripping pent-house forward (the which had
served its purpose admirably well) whiles I, perceiving the waves
subsiding and the wind blowing steady and fair, laid our course due
south-westerly again, and lashing the helm, went forward to shake out
the reefs, finding it no easy task what with the stiffness of my
cramped limbs and the pitching of the boat; howbeit, 'twas done at last
but, coming back, I tripped across a thwart and fell, cursing.

"Are you hurt?" she questioned, stooping over me; whereupon (for very
shame) I turned my back answering short and ungraciously, and sat
frowning like the sullen rogue I was whiles she busily set forth the
wherewithal to break our fast, and singing softly to herself.

"I told you I was an ill rogue and rough!" says I, bitterly.

"Why so you did," says she, meeting my scowl with her wide, calm gaze.
"Also you are hungry, and the food is unspoiled despite the storm--come
and eat!"

So I ate (though with mighty ill grace) and found little savour in the
food for all my hunger; but she waited on my wants with heedful care,
my surliness notwithstanding.

"Whose was the hand set this boat adrift, think you?" says I suddenly.

"Nay, 'twas too dark to see!"

"'Twas Penfeather!" says I, clenching my fist. "Aye it was Adam, I'll
stake my life on't!"

"Then Poor Master Adam!" she sighed.

"How? Will you pity a rogue?"

"I speak of Master Penfeather," says she. "If he indeed cut the boat
adrift it was doubtless because the battle was going against him and he
did this to save me!" Hereupon I laughed and she, flushing angrily,
turns her back on me.

"Pray you," she questioned, "when may we hope to reach the island and