She went aft and found Calamity in a semi-conscious condition. Having satisfied herself that he had been made comfortable, she unlocked the medicine chest and mixed him a stiff dose of quinine. She had just administered this and was about to give Sing-hi instructions concerning the patient, when there came a knock at the cabin-door.
"Come in," said the girl.
The door opened to admit the bos'n and a couple of able seamen.
"Well?" she inquired curtly, somewhat surprised at this visit.
"We wanted to know if it's true that the skipper's on the sick-list, beggin' your pardon, Miss," said the bos'n.
"He is down with an attack of malaria. Why?"
The men exchanged significant glances.
"Well, Miss," went on the bos'n, fingering his dripping sou'-wester nervously, "we thought we'd like to know who's in command while the skipper's laid up."
"I am," answered the girl without a moment's hesitation.
For a moment the little group of men remained standing in the doorway, staring at the girl open-mouthed. Then abruptly and with one accord they left the cabin and she heard the tread of their heavy sea-boots going up the companion-way. Having given the steward directions concerning medicine and a supply of hot-water bottles so long as the patient remained in the cold stage of the fever, Dora Fletcher went up on deck. The weather had moderated considerably, but night was coming on, and it was quite possible that the hurricane might spring up afresh. To her surprise, she found groups of men standing about the after-deck, though their presence in that part of the ship had been expressly forbidden by the Captain.
"What are you men doing here?" she demanded sharply.
They stared at her with sullen sheepishness, but no one answered.
"Get for'ard to your quarters at once and don't let me find a man aft of the bridge unless he has some duty to perform," she went on after a pause.
But the men did not stir, and a low murmur, incoherent but menacing, reached the girl's ears. Suddenly the bos'n, who had been standing by, stepped up to her.
"It's like this 'ere, Miss," he said, in a voice that was half-apologetic and half-defiant, "we want to know where we are, we do. The skipper's took with fever, the mate ain't 'ere, and the second's crippled. Who's going to navigate this packet back to Singapore and take the old man's place?"
"I have already told you that I am."
"I know, Miss, but we didn't take it as you was serious."
"Well, you can take it that I'm serious now."
The bos'n shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, and glanced doubtfully at the sullen figures of the men.
"I'll tell them what you say, Miss," he said at last, "but I don't know how they'll take it. You see," he went on hastily, "maybe some of 'em aren't partial to taking orders from a woman, which don't seem natural, as you may say."
"See here, bos'n," answered the girl, raising her voice so that all could hear, "can you, or any other man on board, navigate this ship to Singapore?"
"No, Miss, I can't say as any of us could."
"Well, I can. I'm a practical navigator, and I will undertake to bring theHawksafely into port. But if there's a man among you who thinks he can do it, let him take command."
"Of course that alters it a bit," answered the bos'n thoughtfully, "we didn't know you could navigate, Miss."
"You don't suppose I should propose to take command otherwise?"
"That's what we was wondering. You see"—the bos'n became confidential—"some of us 'ave sailed in ships where the skipper's 'ad 'is wife aboard, and it's generally she what's done the bossing. Of course we know you ain't this skipper's wife, but all the same we thought as 'ow you might be wanting to try your 'and like."
"Well, you see the position now," said the girl. "Please explain it to the men, and let them understand that, while I am in charge of this ship, I am Captain and will be obeyed."
Without quite realising it, she had copied Calamity's curt and decisive manner, and this, together with the fact that they were really helpless in the matter, was not without its effect on the men. After a short discussion with the bos'n, they trooped off to their quarters, some sullen, others pulling their forelocks as they passed the girl.
"We'll carry out your orders, if you'll take the ship fair and square into Singapore," said the bos'n.
"Then that's agreed; I'll do my part as long as the crew do theirs."
"Very good, Miss," answered the bos'n, and he went for'ad in the wake of the men.
Feeling decidedly relieved, Dora Fletcher was about to go on the bridge when she caught sight of McPhulach standing at the fiddley door, having apparently just come off watch. Seeing her, he came forward, rubbing his hands on a piece of oily cotton-waste.
"You must have been getting a rough time of it down below," she said by way of greeting.
"Rough, d'ye ca' it," he answered; "if I wasna a guid Presbyterian like me fairther before me, I'd be a convairted sinner the noo. Bradlaugh himsel' wouldna hae denied hell if he'd been below during the last four an' twenty hoors."
The girl nodded sympathetically.
"I want to have a few minutes' chat with you, if you can spare the time," she said.
"I'm at ye'r deesposal."
"Then please come into the chart-room. I don't want to leave the bridge longer than I can help."
"Leave the bridge!" echoed McPhulach in astonishment. "D'ye——"
"Please come at once," interrupted the girl, and led the way up to the bridge. After first ascertaining that Calamity was not there, the engineer followed, wondering, as well he might, what such an extraordinary invitation portended. When they had entered the chart-room the girl shut the door and pointed to a seat.
"Have you heard about the Captain?" she asked.
"Haird what?" inquired McPhulach.
"Then you haven't. He is down with a severe attack of malaria; and is quite incapable of doing anything."
"Ye dinna say!"
"It's quite true, he had to be carried off the bridge half an hour ago."
"Weel, weel," murmured the engineer, "he always was a michty quare mon."
"And Smith, as I suppose you know, has broken his leg."
"Aye, ane of the firemen was tellin' me."
"Therefore," she went on, "I have decided to take command of theHawk, since no one, except myself, is capable of navigating her."
She had expected the engineer to show some sign of surprise, even resentment, and was prepared to combat it. But, for all the emotion McPhulach exhibited, she might have been telling him that she had decided to alter her time of getting up or going to bed. He did not even appear interested, but, stooping down, proceeded to take off one of his boots.
"It's verra bad policy to buy ye'r boots second-hand unless ye'r sairtain they'll fit," he remarked, and then remained silently staring at a hole in his sock as though it were a subject for long and earnest meditation.
"I suppose you think I am taking a great deal on myself," she said, wishing to force some comment from him.
The engineer jerked his head in a manner which might have been a nod or a shake, agreement or disagreement. His eyes were still fixed on the gaping aperture in his sock. But at last he spoke, slowly and incisively as a man might who had come to a momentous conclusion after much mental tribulation.
"Yon's the thaird pair o' sacks I've holed at the first wearin'. Gin I go on at this rate I'll no hae a pair to me name by the time we reach Singapore."
"I don't believe you've been listening to a word I've said!" exclaimed the girl, goaded to exasperation.
McPhulach looked up with an expression of mingled surprise and pain on his face.
"Wasna ye tellin' me that ye were goin' to tak' command o' theHawk?"
"Yes."
"Then ye were wrang in saying I didna hear ye," he answered triumphantly.
"The point I want to get at," said the girl, trying hard to be patient, "is this. Can I depend on your support and assistance if necessary? I have made it all right with the crew. Will you be responsible for your men down below?"
The engineer did not answer immediately. Apparently he was turning the matter over in his mind.
"Ye'll be takin' upon ye'rsel' the privileges and powers of a skipper, I'm tae understand?" he inquired at last.
"Yes, since I shall be responsible for the navigation."
Again McPhulach paused meditatively, and the girl noticed, with a feeling of apprehension, that his eyes wandered towards the hole in his sock. But this time it did not monopolise his thoughts.
"Calamity's no said anything tae ye consairning mesel', I suppose?" he asked.
"Certainly not," she replied, rather surprised at the question. "In fact, I've had no opportunity to discuss anything with him."
"Because," continued the engineer, "he's as good as promised me a rise of a poond a month in recogneetion of me sairvices. But I've heard naething aboot it syn."
"I know nothing about that. It's a matter for the Captain to consider when he returns to duty."
"Nae, nae, it isna," protested McPhulach. "The captain's the captain whether he wears skirts or breeks. I'd like ye, in ye'r capacity of skipper of theHawk, to confairm that promise of an extra poond a month."
"I will undertake that you shall have the extra money so long as I am in command, even if I have to pay it myself," answered the girl.
"Guid enough. Gin ye hae a bit o' paper handy, meybe ye'd no objec' to putting it doon in writing. I'm no dootin' ye'r word, mind ye, but 'twould be mair satisfactory to hae it in black and white, if ye ken me."
He drew a fountain-pen from a pocket beneath his dungarees and the girl found a piece of paper in one of the table drawers. She took the pen from McPhulach, and, hastily scribbling a few lines, handed it to him.
"Will that do?" she asked.
The engineer took the paper and read it with extreme care. It was to the effect that, during her command of theHawk, Dora Fletcher agreed that Phineas McPhulach, chief engineer of that vessel, should receive a pound a month extra pay.
"Aye," he murmured, handing it back to her, "ye'll be guid enough tae sign it, please."
The girl did so, and McPhulach waved it gently to and fro to dry the ink.
"So ye've made ye'r intentions known tae the crew," he remarked.
"Yes."
"An' hoo did they tak' it?"
"Not very well at first. I shouldn't be surprised if some of them tried to make trouble, especially as they know we have treasure aboard."
"Aye, I shouldna be sairprised. Sic an ungodly lot o' heathen I've never sailed wi' before. But ye're a michty plucky lassie. Mind, ye're no me ideal of a woman, but gin it wasna that I'm a wee bit confused in me matrimonial obligations I dinna say that I wouldna marry ye mesel'."
"It's good of you, I'm sure."
"Nae, nae, dinna thank me," answered McPhulach hastily, "I wasna meanin' to propose tae ye. It jest crossed me mind like that ye'd mak' a guid wife gin ye was properly trained." He rose to his feet and yawned. "I'm for turnin' in," he said, "so I'll be wishin' ye guid nicht, Miss Fletcher."
"Good-night," she answered, and the engineer left the chart-room. When he had gone the girl took from a drawer a chart, pencil, and parallel rulers, and, sitting down, marked out the ship's course. This done, she wrote up the log and then stepped out on to the bridge, just as two relief quartermasters came up to take the wheel over.
"I shall only want one man at the wheel now," she said. "The storm, I think, has passed over."
A little later on, when she was taking off her sea-boots in the chart-room preparatory to lying down, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," she said.
It was McPhulach, who, with an oilskin over his pyjamas, stood at the door.
"I jest wanted to mak' sairtain, Miss Fletcher, that ye didna misunderstand me a whiles back," he said anxiously.
"Misunderstand what?" she asked in surprise.
"Weel, I'd like tae mak' it clear that I didna propose tae ye. I wouldna like ye tae attach any false hope to what I said aboot marryin' ye mesel' gin I was able. It were jest a wee bit joke, ye'll ken."
She reassured him concerning her intentions, and the engineer, with a sigh of relief, returned to his bunk.
The morning dawned bright and cloudless, with every promise of a spell of fine weather. But although the hurricane had spent itself, there was still a heavy sea running which impeded the work of clearing up the decks and repairing the damage wrought by the storm. In the brilliant, penetrating sunshine, theHawkpresented a disreputable appearance: her funnel encrusted with dirty grey rime, both her for'ad derricks a heap of splintered wood and tangled cordage, her boats smashed to matchwood, and her decks a depository of wreckage of all sorts.
Dora Fletcher had been able to snatch only a couple of hours' sleep during the night, but when dawn broke she went to see Calamity. She found him tossing in his bunk, and murmuring incoherently. When she spoke to him he showed no sign of comprehension. Sing-hi stood by while she went to the medicine-chest and took out a bottle of sweet spirits of nitre. To him she explained what dose he was to give the patient, and the Chinaman nodded comprehendingly; he had already proved himself a conscientious and trustworthy sick-nurse, albeit possessed of no initiative. He would have gone on pouring medicine down the Captain's throat at intervals long after the latter was dead, unless given instructions to the contrary.
Her next visit was to Smith, who, as Sing-hi had as much as he could do in the cabin, was being attended by one of the deck-hands.
"What cher!" he exclaimed genially as she entered, "how's the old man this morning?"
"In the hot stage now," answered the girl. "But how are you?"
"Not so dusty considerin'. It's a bit orf, though, lying here on a shelf like a bloomin' parcel that's been left till called for."
"But you're not in pain?"
"Oh, nothing to make a shout about. But how are you getting on with the crew? I've been expectin' mutiny ever since the skipper was knocked out."
"I don't think there's much fear of that," answered the girl, and described her interview with the bos'n on the preceding evening.
"You see," she concluded, "the men are helpless."
"There's something in that," Smith admitted. "By crikey, you're a bloomin' knock-out, and no kid," he added admiringly.
"I must leave you now," she said, going to the door, "but I'll look in again later on."
"Right you are, sir," replied the patient jocularly.
When she entered the foc'sle to see the injured quartermaster some of the men, impelled by a rude courtesy, rose to their feet, but there were others who regarded her with an air of aloofness which almost amounted to defiance. Having ascertained that the patient was progressing as favourably as could be expected, she left the foc'sle and was met on the for'ad deck by the bos'n, who appeared to be in an agitated state of mind.
"Been looking for you everywhere, Miss," he said breathlessly. "Didn't you 'ear the gun?"
"Gun! What gun?"
"A signal from somewheres astern. Struck me it might be theSatellitein trouble, Miss."
The only thing to do under the circumstances was to search for the vessel in distress. The girl went on the bridge, and, telling the quartermaster to stand aside, took the wheel herself. At the same moment she heard the distant boom of a gun, obviously a signal for help. It now became necessary to bring theHawkround in a semi-circle and this, in such a sea, was a task which called for extremely nice judgment and skilful seamanship. Yet the amazing young woman accomplished it without mishap, though once, when broadside on to a beam sea, those on board experienced a few nasty moments with a solid mountain of green water towering above them, and looking as if it must fall upon the ship and crush her under its stupendous weight.
"S'truth!" ejaculated the bos'n softly when the steamer's nose swung round to meet the oncoming rollers, "that was touch-and-go if you like. But she can 'andle a boat, can that gal."
And the carpenter, who stood near him, agreed.
Suddenly the look-out shouted "Ship on the port bow!" and, giving the wheel to the quartermaster, Dora Fletcher snatched up the glasses and looked in the direction indicated. There, sure enough, was a vessel which looked remarkably like theSatellite, but, most amazing thing of all,she was not rolling, and the seas were breaking clean over her. In a flash the girl divined what had happened; the gunboat had struck some uncharted reef and was firmly wedged aground. Presumably, therefore, she was making water fast and the only thing to do was to get the crew and prisoners off as quickly as possible.
"Signal we're coming to her assistance," said the girl, and the bos'n hoisted the flags, H.F. The reply came immediately, "Want a tow, no damage."
"Gawd, she must 'ave struck a feather piller instead o' a reef," commented the bos'nsotto voce, as he communicated the reply to Miss Fletcher.
Slowly theHawkbore down to leeward of the stranded vessel, signalling theSatelliteto send a boat with tow-lines, for it was far too perilous to come near enough for the lines to be thrown from one ship to the other. Thanks to Mr. Dykes's foresight in having thrown out oil-bags, the sea around theSatellitehad subsided considerably and a boat was lowered without much difficulty. But as soon as she got outside the oil radius the frail cockleshell of a boat was tossed about like a cork, and more than once it looked as if she must inevitably be swamped and capsized. But she fought her way manfully, and at last came within hailing distance of theHawk.
"Stand off!" shouted the girl through a megaphone. "Heave from where you are."
The wisdom of this order was apparent to all, for, had the boat come much nearer or attempted to get alongside, she would almost certainly have been swept against the steamer and crushed to pieces. So while the crew kept her head-on to the sea, the man in the bows waited for a favourable opportunity. It came when the boat was carried upwards on the crest of a huge wave till on a level with theHawk'sbridge; then he stood up, and, swinging one of the lines round his head, gave it a cast. The thin rope leapt through the air in a long, sinuous curve, and descended on the steamer's deck, where it was promptly caught and secured to the drum of a steam-winch. Then ensued another period of tense waiting before a chance came to send the other line aboard; but it was successfully accomplished at last, and the boat started on its return journey.
As soon as the second line had been secured the steam-winches were started and began to wind in the lines until the hawsers appeared under theHawk'sstern, one on each side.
"Vast heaving!" came the order.
Then, with the assistance of the winches, the ends of the hawsers were carried through the hawse-holes and parcelled with chafing-mats to lessen the friction. TheHawkwas now astern of theSatellite, which was to be towed off the reef stern foremost, and the work would commence as soon as the hawsers had been made secure.
At last the bos'n reported all ready and the girl rang down "Stand by" to the engine-room. There was a tense pause, and then she again moved the lever. A faint "ting-ting" came from below, the telegraph pointer swung round to "Slow," and theHawk'sengines began to move with a steady, ponderous beat. All eyes were fixed upon the hawsers, which, as the steamer began to move, slowly raised their dripping lengths from the water. Then the moment arrived when the great ropes tautened till they vibrated under the tension like fiddle-strings when a bow is passed across them. TheHawk, which had been slowly forging ahead, seemed to pull up with a sudden jerk, and then gradually slide back, stern foremost, in her own wake, while the hawsers sagged and dipped into the sea. The girl on the bridge waited with her hand on the telegraph, every nerve braced as if for stupendous effort, while she watched the hawsers disappear. Then, as theHawk'sstern-way was arrested, she rang down "Half speed" and the engines pulsated with quickened beats.
Again the hawsers grew taut as the steamer forged ahead, only to recoil once more like a straining hound suddenly jerked back by its leash. But this time the recoil was only momentary and then she gathered a little way, while, at the same moment, theSatellitewas seen to move. Once more Dora Fletcher pressed the lever of the telegraph, the decks vibrated to the thunderous beat of the engines, and, to the accompaniment of a cheer from the anxious watchers, the gunboat slid gently into deep water.
"Gawd!" ejaculated the bos'n, wiping the sweat from his brow, and the monosyllable was more eloquent than an oration.
With a little moan of utter fatigue which was not that of the body only, Dora Fletcher slipped into the chart-room and flung herself on the settee. The terrible nervous strain of these hours when she alone had been responsible for the safety of theHawkand all those souls aboard, added to the strain of the last hour, had been too much for her. She collapsed suddenly in a dead faint, and it was thus that McPhulach discovered her when he put his head into the chart-room some fifteen minutes later.
McPhulach, thinking the girl was asleep, shook her gently by the shoulder; but, as this met with no response, he took a closer look at her.
"Losh presairve us!" he ejaculated, "the lassie's fainted."
He took from his pocket a small, flat flask, and, after drawing the cork, placed the bottle to his nose and sniffed the aroma appreciatively. Then, with a sigh, he forced some of its contents between the girl's teeth, pillowing her head on his arm as he did so. In a moment or two she opened her eyes and stared at him with a dull, uncomprehending gaze, which, however, quickly gave place to a look of bewilderment.
"Why, what's happened?" she murmured and passed a hand across her forehead as if trying to remember.
"Ye've jes' swallowed a drap o' unco' guid whusky," answered the engineer, holding up the flask to see how much he had "wasted."
"Why I—I must have fainted!"
"Aye, ye were lying on the cooch like a wax-work figger when I came in."
The girl sat up with cheeks that had suddenly become very red. Obviously she was ashamed of being found out in an essentially feminine weakness.
"I was very tired," she said apologetically, "and—and——"
"Ye jes' swooned," put in McPhulach as she hesitated. "Weel, I'm no sairprised. I'm subjec' tae it mysel', which is why I always carry a wee drappie aboot me pairson. It's likewise a muckle fine thing for stomach troubles, ye ken."
The girl nodded absently and gazed through the chart-room window at theSatellite, now steaming about a cable's length astern. Under the bos'n's directions, the towing hawsers had been cast off and hauled back aboard the gunboat. It had not occurred to her till this moment that Mr. Dykes must have been considerably exercised in his mind at seeing her on the bridge, and in command instead of Calamity. She wondered what he thought about it.
"Weel, I'll be ganging below," remarked McPhulach. "It was a michty guid thing I came up here for a breath o' fresh air an' tae see hoo ye were getting alang."
"It was, and I'm very much obliged to you for what you did," answered the girl. "But please don't say anything about it to anyone."
She stammered and blushed as though asking him to compound a felony.
"Nae, nae, I'll no breathe a word, gin ye dinna want me tae," he assured her. "Mr. Smeeth's man tells me a steam-pipe has burstit in his cabin, sae I'll jes' gang doon and hae a speer at it," saying which the engineer left the chart-room, and, descending to the deck, made his way to the second-mate's cabin.
After an amiable exchange of greetings between himself and Smith, he found the leak in the steam-pipe and plugged it with cotton waste.
"'Tis a fine bit o' wark that Miss Fletcher has done," he remarked, preparing to leave.
"You mean gettin' theSatelliteoff?" answered Smith. "Yes, Byles was telling me about it; said it was one of the finest feats of seamanship he'd ever seen."
"Aye, 'twas that. Mon, she'd mak' a splendid wife for a body who could manage her."
"D'you think so?" said Smith thoughtfully.
"Never a doot, lad. But the mon who'd be strang enoo' to marry the like o' her, would be strang enoo' not tae marry at a', I'm thinkin'."
There was a pause and McPhulach made to leave the cabin. As he was about to open the door, Smith called him back.
"Thinkin' it over," said he, "I ain't such a bad-lookin' cove, am I?"
"It's haird tae say," answered the engineer slowly. "Wi' a few alterations an' repairs, some women micht regaird ye as an Adonis."
"Never met the bloke. But," went on the second-mate, trying to pin the other down to a definite statement, "you wouldn't say I was hideous, would you?"
Again McPhulach regarded him critically before venturing an opinion.
"It's haird tae say," he replied at last.
"Oh hang!" ejaculated Smith in disgust. "Still," he went on, "I'm blowed if I don't have a try."
"Eh?"
"She might do worse."
"D'ye mean that ye're goin' tae ax Mees Fletcher tae marry ye?"
"Why not?"
"You're a brave mon, Smeeth."
"But why shouldn't I?" reiterated the second-mate.
"I wish ye luck," said the engineer dryly. "Hoo-ever, I ken nae reason why ye shouldna ax her."
"D'you mean you don't think she'd have me?"
"Nae, nae, women hae quare tastes, an' it isna always the best-lookin' mon that comes oot the best."
"Look here, Mac, d'you think you could put out a feeler for us?"
"Eh!"
"Jest sound her, so to speak; find out whether she likes me."
"Nae, nae," answered the engineer hastily. "I've enough troubles of me ain, an' I'm no goin' tae do anither body's coorting."
"Tell you what, Mac," went on Smith coaxingly, "you shall be best man at the wedding."
"Ye're verra generous, but it's no' the job I'm speerin' after."
"All right, you can give us a wedding present then."
"Eh! Weel, mebbe I'd be ye'r best mon gin ye were marrit."
"Half a mo, Mac," said the second-mate, as the engineer made another attempt to escape. "You don't think there's any one else in the runnin', do you?"
"It's a verra deeficult question tae answer," replied McPhulach.
"How d'you mean?"
"There is an' there isna'."
"What the devil are you driving at?"
"I mean that she's wishfu' tae marry the skeeper, an' he's no wishfu' tae be marrit."
"Crikey!" ejaculated Smith, the look of pleasurable anticipation dying out of his face. "Who told you that?"
"Ony fu' wi' a pair o' een in his held could hae telt ye that."
"I guessed she was a bit gone on him at first, but blimey, I never thought she was in love with him—why, he's old enough to be her father, I should say. Besides, he's only got one eye, and you can't call him handsome, look at him any way you like."
"I told ye women hae quare tastes."
"Well, if I ain't a better man to look at than that one-eyed old crock aft, I'll eat my bloomin' hat."
"I wouldna advise ye tae mak' rash promises," answered McPhulach, and managed to slip out of the cabin before Smith could detain him.
For a time the amorous second-mate lay still, trying to make up his mind as to the best and most effective manner of declaring his passion to Miss Fletcher. McPhulach's reference to the Captain, though it had disconcerted him at the moment, upon mature consideration seemed so preposterous that he had found no difficulty in dismissing it from his mind. The more he thought over his matrimonial scheme, the more convinced he became that, in marrying him, Miss Fletcher would be a very fortunate young woman. Besides, she would have the inestimable privilege of keeping him "straight," which would, no doubt, provide her with an interest in life. Women, he believed, liked reforming, and his future wife would have ample opportunity for indulging in this hobby. She might, in time and with patience, even effect a permanent reform.
Little guessing the good fortune in store for her, Dora Fletcher stood on the bridge with a sextant in her hands, "shooting the sun," it being then exactly at the meridian. This was the first time since they had been overtaken by the hurricane that a chance had occurred for taking observations. For the last two or three days the ship's approximate position could only be ascertained by dead reckoning, and, therefore, it was necessary to correct this at the earliest opportunity. Having concluded her observations, marked theHawk'sposition on the chart, and laid out the course, the girl lay down on the settee to try and make up a little for the inadequate amount of sleep she had had during the last forty-eight hours. Later on in the day she again visited the Captain's cabin. He was sleeping when she went in, and it was evident that his condition had improved. Having given the steward some further instructions, she went to Smith's cabin to see how he was getting on.
"Well, how do you feel this evening?" she inquired on entering.
"Pretty fair, thanks," answered the invalid with a deep sigh.
"Your leg's not hurting you?"
"Oh no, my leg ain't hurting me."
"Then what's the matter? You seem rather melancholy."
"I've been thinkin'," said Smith still more gloomily, "of me future."
"Your future?"
"Yes. A man lyin' on a sick bed gets queer notions into his head, especially if he's got brains."
"But why should you worry about the future?" asked the girl, puzzled. "Your leg will soon be all right, and you'll be able to go on duty again."
"The fact is," replied Smith, suddenly becoming confidential, "I'm thinking of settlin' down."
"Yes?"
"A man like me, who's always led a rovin' life, so to speak, wants an anchor. A home and wife and kids, and so on."
"Then you're thinking of getting married?" asked the girl innocently.
"That all depends," he answered. "Although you mightn't think it, I'm rather a particular sort of cove. Of course I've got my faults——" and he waved an arm as if to signify that he also had his virtues, which were too obvious to specify.
Miss Fletcher, not feeling called upon to make any comment, remained silent, and, after a moment or two, Smith went on.
"What I want is a young woman who understands men of my sort. A woman with a bit of spirit, mind you, not bad-lookin', and able to turn her hand to 'most anything."
"H'm; I should think you'd better advertise, stating all your requirements."
"No need," replied Smith triumphantly. "I've got the very woman in my eye."
"Oh? That ought to save you a lot of trouble, not to say expense," answered the girl with a touch of irony, which, however, Smith failed to perceive.
"Yes, but the trouble is that I ain't quite certain yet whether she'll have me," he said.
"I should think the easiest way out of the difficulty would be to ask her," she replied, wholly ignorant of the direction in which the second-mate's laborious confidences were tending.
"You don't think she'd be offended if I did?"
"Good gracious, how should I know!"
"Better than you think, p'raps," replied Smith mysteriously. "Shall I tell you her name?"
"Really, Mr. Smith, I don't think it concerns me in the slightest what the lady's name is."
"But it does!" he almost shouted, raising himself on his elbow and staring at her hard.
For the first time Dora Fletcher began to see the trend of all this. She rose from the locker upon which she had been seated.
"I must leave you now," she said a little coldly. "I have to——"
"Half a mo'," broke in Smith, "you haven't heard the lady's name yet."
"I don't think I want to, thanks. It's not a matter which——"
"Isn't it! You wait. The lady's name is Dora Fletcher—how about that?"
An angry flush mounted to the girl's face, and then, being blessed with that rare possession, a sense of humour, she had much ado to prevent herself from laughing outright.
"I'm afraid I can't oblige you, Mr. Smith," she said. "Although, of course, I appreciate the honour you've done me."
"That ain't any use to me," growled the second-mate, rather taken aback at this unhesitating rejection.
"I'm sorry, but——"
"What's wrong with me, then?" he burst out. "Of course I'm not a bloomin' earl or a dook nor yet a Captain——"
"I think we had better forget all about it," answered the girl. "Please don't speak of it again."
But Smith, his hopes dashed to the ground, and his pride wounded, was not inclined to drop the subject so lightly. In fact, he completely lost his temper.
"I suppose it's because you're sweet on the skipper," he said savagely. "But I can tell you that you ain't got a ghost of a chance there; no, not if you lived to a hundred. He ain't no ornery, bloomin' skipper, nor Calamity ain't his name. Would you like to know who he is?"
The girl hesitated, torn between an almost irresistible desire to learn the secret of that strange man's identity, and disgust at the vulgar outburst of the little Cockney.
"You may as well know," he added, noticing her indecision.
"Well, tell me then," she retorted, unable any longer to resist the temptation.
Smith glanced furtively around the cabin as if to make sure no one was concealed there, and then leaned over the edge of his bunk.
"Come nearer," he said; "it ain't the sort of thing to shout out loud."
Reluctantly she moved a little closer to him, and he whispered two words in her ear.
"Well, what do you say to that?" he asked triumphantly.
A week had passed, and Calamity, now convalescent, was able once more to resume command. As, however, Smith was still unable to discharge his customary duties, the Captain appointed Miss Fletcher temporary mate.
"Since you are now an officer," he said with that grim smile of his, "you had better take your meals in the cabin with me."
The girl's eyes lit up with pleasure for a moment, then the light died out of them and her lips hardened.
"Thank you all the same, but I should prefer to have my meals in my own cabin as before," she answered.
"Please yourself," answered Calamity carelessly.
After this, although their relationship remained superficially much the same as it had always been, the Captain taciturn and abrupt, the girl quiet and self-possessed, there was a subtle change in the attitude of each towards the other. Calamity had come to rely on the girl, and now accepted at her hands many little services which tended towards his greater comfort, services which he would have rejected with curt imperiousness less than a fortnight ago.
One day he sent for McPhulach, and in due course the engineer appeared, clad as usual, in soiled dungarees, and clasping a piece of oily cotton-waste in his hand.
"Ye're wishfu' tae see me, sir?" he inquired.
"Yes; sit down."
The engineer perched himself on the cabin skylight, and began mechanically to rub the brass rails with his cotton-waste.
"Would you care to go to England after this trip, McPhulach?" asked the Captain abruptly.
McPhulach ceased rubbing the brass rails, and stared at Calamity in astonishment.
"Tae England?" he repeated.
"Yes. I may want you in connection with that document you signed, and quite possibly I shall be able to give you a good shore job."
"It a' depends," answered the engineer thoughtfully. "Ye see, skeeper, I hae sairtain financial obleegations in that country which I canna dischairge. An' meybe there are ane or twa leddies who'd mak' it no verra pleasant for me gin they were tae ken I was back."
"H'm; I should have thought that a man of your resource and experience could have overcome that difficulty."
McPhulach considered for a little time, and the cloud on his brow lifted.
"I ken brawly wha' tae dae, sir!" he exclaimed. "Gin ye'll ca' me Jones and give oot that I'm a Welshman, there's no a body who'd recognise me."
Something like a chuckle escaped the Captain, but he answered in a perfectly grave voice.
"If you think that device will overcome your difficulties, I have no objection to calling you Jones and informing all whom it may concern that you're a Welshman."
"Frae Pontypreed."
"From Pontypridd, if you like. That sounds Welsh enough."
"Then I'll sign on wi' ye, sir."
"Right, then that's settled," answered Calamity, and McPhulach, preening himself upon his astuteness, returned to the engine-room.
That evening, when Miss Fletcher came on the bridge to relieve the Captain, he seemed inclined to linger.
"By the twenty-seventh," he said, "we ought to be in Singapore."
"In Singapore," murmured the girl, and nodded as if in answer to some unspoken thought.
"Yes. Have you finally decided what to do?"
"I shall see the British Consul, lay before him my father's papers, and ask him to advance me sufficient money to——"
"There's no need to ask him that," interrupted Calamity. "I could let you have whatever you wanted, even if there wasn't——"
"Still, if you don't mind, I should prefer to borrow it from the Consul," she broke in without looking at him.
"As you please. Then I take it that you have made up your mind to go to California?"
"Yes; I will take your advice and try fruit-farming."
"H'm," grunted Calamity.
"You told me it was the best—in fact, the only thing I could do," she said with a faint touch of sarcasm in her voice.
"Yes—yes, I suppose I did."
"The profession I know best and which I love best—that of the sea—I cannot follow, being a woman. You pointed that out yourself."
"It is self-evident!"
Calamity turned away as if to leave the bridge, hesitated on the top step of the companion-ladder, and then came back again. Seemingly he did so only to glance at the compass, but, having done this, he came up to the bridge-rail and leant over it.
"You are a strange young woman," he said abruptly.
"Am I?"
He lapsed into silence again and Dora Fletcher, looking at him surreptitiously out of the corner of her eye, marvelled exceedingly. Once more this extraordinary man was revealing himself to her in a new light. Usually so self-confident and determined in manner and speech, he exhibited a curious hesitancy this evening that puzzled the girl. He was like a man who wished to say something yet, for some reason or other, feared to say it. This so impressed her that she grew uneasy, and, moving a little farther away from him, leant against the starboard rail and gazed fixedly across the darkening waters.
Presently the Captain straightened his back, walked to the port rail, and, after standing there a moment or two, crossed to where the girl was standing. He did not speak, and, although her back was towards him, she knew that he was very close. Involuntarily she clutched the rail tightly as if to support herself, her heart began to beat faster and her breath came in little catches. And yet, she told herself, there was no reason for this; it made her angry, angry with herself for being unreasonably agitated, and angry with him for being the cause of it. He remained standing close behind her, saying nothing, till at last she could bear it no longer.
"Won't you miss your watch below, sir?" she asked.
"That is my affair," he answered in his old curt way, and she felt a sense of relief at the familiar tone.
He remained where he was, however, regarding her intently and with an expression that would have startled the girl had she seen it. There was every excuse for that look on the Captain's face, for she made as comely a picture as any man might wish to gaze upon, with her slim, supple figure and the great braid of red-brown hair coiled round her shapely head. Masculine as she was in her fearlessness, her strength, and her power of command, she was withal intensely feminine, possessing besides all the lure of blossoming womanhood.
All this Calamity recognised clearly enough now, if he had never done so before. He was very far from being a sentimentalist, but, as he stood so near to her, the memory of that day when she had frankly avowed her love for him came back with poignant vividness. He knew now that he had been a blind fool and a brutal fool as well. The greatest treasure that life can give had been his for the taking, and he had spurned it. But now he had awakened to a sense of what he had lost.
Such were the thoughts which passed through Calamity's mind as he lingered irresolutely on the bridge. It was an altogether new sensation to him, this self-condemnation and timid hesitancy. For the first time in his life, perhaps, Calamity was afraid. It was, if nothing else, a chastening experience.
As for Dora Fletcher, her whole being was in a tumult of warring emotions. Instinctively she felt something of what was passing through the Captain's mind. She could not but guess that this sudden and remarkable change in his manner was due to herself, that it meant the beginning of a new relationship between them—at least, so far as he was concerned. Already their relations had passed through several different phases: first she had been a mere nonentity in his eyes; then an individual to be tolerated, a nurse later on, then a trusted and efficient officer, and finally—finally, she supposed, a memory ever growing more indistinct as the years passed.
Just as his near presence was becoming intolerable to the girl because of the complex emotions it occasioned, he moved away and strolled towards the other end of the bridge. She wished fervently that he would go below, for while he remained near her she was in a fever of apprehension.
Presently, however, he turned again and walked slowly back to where she was standing on the lee side of the bridge.
"Miss Fletcher," he said abruptly.
"Yes, sir," she answered, turning and facing him.
"Will you marry me?"
It had come at last, the inevitable climax she had felt approaching ever since his recovery from that illness. For a moment she was conscious of a thrill of exquisite joy, and her carefully nursed resolution wavered. Then, remembering the communication Smith had made to her, she pulled herself together.
"No," she answered in a low voice.
The Captain turned on his heel and walked in a leisurely manner to the other end of the bridge, where he lingered for a moment. Then he came back, glanced at the compass, and turned towards the girl.
"Keep her west by north," he said, and slowly descended the companion-ladder.
"Land ahead!"
At that cry the men came tumbling out of the foc'sle on to the for'ad deck of theHawk, for it meant they were in sight of port at last. With luck, they would be paid off before many more hours had passed, the prize-money would be distributed—and then for a flare-up; a riotous, drunken orgy which would probably lead to three-fourths of their number finishing up in the police-cells. It would be a great night for the drink-shops of Singapore when Calamity's men, free from the iron discipline they had endured throughout the voyage, let themselves go.
So the men crowded against the bulwarks watching, with hungry eyes, the indistinct coast-line far away on the starboard bow. Even the most sullen and discontented among them dwelt in cheerful anticipation upon the glorious debauch in store. However, they were not permitted to dwell upon these delights undisturbed. In common with most captains, Calamity was accustomed to bring a ship into port looking like a new pin, with not so much as a smudge on the brasswork or a blemish on the white paint. So all hands were turned-to for the purpose of scouring, cleaning, and polishing. They worked with a will, for this would be practically their last day on board, even if theHawkdid not take up her moorings till the next morning. One of the men, a grizzled old shellback whose memories reached to the days of clippers and square-rigged ships, started to drone a chanty, popular enough in its day but now consigned to the limbo of masts and sails and salt junk. And this was the burden of his song: