o assure myself
of the direction. I found even this small change an advantage in more
ways than one, as the boat moved steadier, and I was able to spread a
larger amount of canvas. Lashing the tiller, I crept forward and shook
out an additional reef, hauling the ropes taut. By this time the wind
had steadied into a brisk breeze, and the rain had ceased. Crawling
back across the thwarts, I took the jumping tiller again into my hands,
and held her nose to it, seeking every advantage. I had brought back
with me a tin of biscuit from the bow locker, more as an excuse for
opening conversation than from any feeling of hunger.

"It must be pretty close to midnight," I said finally. "Are you
hungry?"

The shapeless form in the oilskins straightened slightly, and I knew
she had turned her face toward me.

"Hungry! Oh, no; I had not thought of that."

"You have been crying?"

"Yes; it is so foolish, but I am so frightened out here in this little
boat. The darkness, and that awful water has got upon my nerves.
You--you must n't scold me."

"Of course not--I feel the weight myself," I replied kindly. "This
experience is almost as new to me as to yourself. You must remember I
am no sailor."

"Yet you understand boats; you know the sea."

"Only a little about small boats; I picked that up in the Philippines;
but I have never had to rely entirely upon myself before."

"But you are not afraid?"

I laughed softly, hoping to reassure her.

"Not of those things which most affect you, at least. I can handle the
boat all right in this sea and wind, while the darkness possesses no
special terror."

"Nor the memory of that dead man float--floating somewhere yonder?"

"I have hardly thought about him. I have seen so many dead men in the
past three years I have become hardened possibly. You must n't let
your mind dwell on that grewsome incident. It was unavoidable, our
only means of escape. His death was an accident."

"What is it then you are afraid of?"

I told her, dwelling upon our situation so far as I could understand
it, and describing the change in my plans. She listened quietly,
asking a question now and then, sitting erect, the oilskins thrown
aside, and one hand grasping the boat's rail.

"What papers did you find in the desk?"

"Letters mostly, establishing the identity of the Captain."

"Who is he--really?"

"Charles Henley--Philip Henley's half brother by a negro mother. Did
you ever hear