salt
spray damp upon her cheeks. She was dressed in a long, brown ulster, its
cape flying from her shoulders as the wind lifted it. Small as was the
outgoing ship, the tug was still smaller, and its single passenger had
to raise her eyes above her to see the figure of a man upon the bridge
of the ship, a tall, heavily built figure, buttoned from heel to chin in
a greatcoat, who stood there gripping the rail of the bridge with one
hand, and from time to time giving an order to his sailing-master, who
stood in the centre of the bridge before the compass and electric
indicator.

Between the man upon the bridge and the woman on the forward deck of the
tug there was from time to time a little conversation. They called to
one another above the throbbing of the engines and the wash of the sea
alongside, and in the sound of their voices there was a note of
attempted cheerfulness. Practically they were alone, with the exception
of the sailing-master on the bridge. The crew of the ship were nowhere
in sight. On the tug no one but the woman was to be seen. All around
them stretched the fog-ridden sea.

Then at last, in answer to a question from the man on the bridge, the
woman said:

"Yes--I think I had better."

An order was given. The tug's bell rang in her engine-room, and the
engine slowed and stopped. For some time the tug continued her headway,
ranging alongside the ship as before. Then she began to fall behind, at
first slowly, then with increasing swiftness. The outbound ship
continued on her way, and between the two the water widened and widened.
But the fog was thick; in another moment the two would be shut out from
each other's sight. The moment of separation was come.

Then Lloyd, standing alone on that heaving deck, drew herself up to her
full height, her head a little back, her blue eyes all alight, a smile
upon her lips. She spoke no word. She made no gesture, but stood there,
the smile yet upon her lips, erect, firm, motionless; looking steadily,
calmly, proudly into Bennett's eyes as his ship carried him farther and
farther away.

Suddenly the fog shut down. The two vessels were shut from each other's
sight.

As Bennett stood leaning upon the rail of the bridge behind him, his
hands deep in the pockets of his greatcoat, his eyes fixed on the
visible strip of water just ahead of his ship's prow, the
sailing-master, Adler, approached and saluted.

"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "we're just clear of the last