The Comfort rocked and wallowed in the trough.We were being driven by the wind away from the shoal, but not fast enough.
Somehow or other we must get out of that dangerous neighborhood.Iturned to my companion.She had not spoken since the squall came.
"Miss Colton," I said, "give me your hands."I presume she could not imagine what I meant.No doubt, too, my tone and the request frightened her.She hesitated.I seized her hands and placed them on the spokes of the wheel.
"I want you to hold that wheel just as it is," I commanded."Imust go forward and get steerage way on this craft somehow, or we shall capsize.Can you hold it, do you think?""Yes; I--I think so."
"You must."
I left her, went to the cuddy and dragged out the small canvas tarpaulin which I used to cover the engine at night.With this, a cod line, the boathook, and my one oar I improvised a sort of jury rig which I tied erect at the forward end of the cockpit.Then Iwent aft and took the wheel again.The tarpaulin made a poor apology for a sail, but I hoped it might answer the purpose well enough to keep the Comfort before the wind.
It did.Tacking was, of course, out of the question, but with the gale astern the launch answered her helm and slid over the waves instead of rolling between them.I sighed in relief.Then Iremembered my passenger sitting silent beside me.She did not deserve consideration, but I vouchsafed a word of encouragement.
"Don't be frightened," I said."It is only a stiff breeze and this boat is seaworthy.We are all right now.""But why did you take up the anchor?"
By way of answer I pointed aft over the stern.In the darkness the froth of the shoal gleamed white.I felt her shudder as she looked.
"Where are we going now--please?" she asked, a moment later.
"We are headed for the Wellmouth shore.It is the only direction we can take.If this wind holds we shall land in a few hours.It is all deep water now.There are no more shoals.""But," anxiously, "can we land when we reach there? Isn't it a bad coast?""Not very.If we can make Mackerel Island we may be able to get ashore at the light or anchor in the lee of the land.It is all right, Miss Colton.I am telling you the truth.Strange as it may seem to you, I really am."I could not help adding the last bit of sarcasm.She understood.
She drew away on the bench and asked no more questions.
On drove the Comfort.The first fierceness of the squall had passed and it was now merely what I had called it, a stiff breeze.
Out here in the middle of the bay the waves were higher and we shipped some spray over the quarter.The air was sharp and the chill penetrated even my thick jacket.
"You must be cold," I said."Aren't you?""No."
"But you must be.Take the wheel a moment.""I am not cold."
"Take the wheel."
She took it.I groped about in the cuddy again, got out my storm coat, an old pea jacket which I wore on gunning expeditions, and brought it to her.
"Slip this on," I said.
"I do not care for it."
"Put it on."
"Mr.Paine," haughtily, "I tell you....oh!"I had wrapped the coat about her shoulders and fastened the upper button.
"Now sit down on the deck here," I ordered."Here, by my feet.
You will be below the rail there and out of the wind."To my surprise she obeyed orders, this time without even a protest.
I smiled grimly.To see her obey suited my humor.It served her right.I enjoyed ordering her about as if I were mate of an old-time clipper and she a foremast hand.She had insulted me once too often and she should pay for it.Out here social position and wealth and family pride counted for nothing.Here I was absolute master of the situation and she knew it.All her life she would remember it, the humiliation of being absolutely dependent upon me for life and safety and warmth.I looked down at her crouching at my feet, and then away over the black water.The Comfort climbed wave after wave.
"Mr.Paine."
The tone was very low but I heard it.
I came out of my waking dream--it was not a pleasant one--and answered.
"Yes?" I said.
"Where are we?"
"We are making fair progress, everything considered.Are you warmer now?""Yes--thank you."
She said no more, nor did I.Except for the splash of the spray and the flapping of the loose ends of the tarpaulin, it was quiet aboard the Comfort.Quiet, except for an odd sound in the shadow by my knee.I stooped and listened.
"Miss Colton," I said, quickly."What is it?"No answer.Yet I heard the sound again.
"What is it, Miss Colton?" I repeated."What is the matter? Why are you crying?""I--I am NOT crying," indignantly.And on the very heels of the denial came a stifled sob.
That sob went to my heart.A great lump rose in my own throat.My brain seemed to be turning topsy-turvy.A moment before it had been filled with bitterness and resentment and vengeful thoughts.
Now these had vanished and in their place came crowding other and vastly different feelings.She was crying, sobbing there alone in the dark at my feet.And I had treated her like a brute!
"Miss Colton," I pleaded, in an agony of repentance, "what is it?
Is there anything I can do? Are you still cold? Take this other coat, the one I have on.I don't need it, really.I am quite warm.""I am not cold."
"But--"
"Oh, please don't speak to me! PLEASE!"
I closed my lips tightly and clutched the wheel with both hands.
Oh, I had been a brute, a brute! I should have known that she was not herself, that she was frightened and nervous and distraught.Ishould have been considerate and forbearing.I should have remembered that she was only a girl, hysterical and weak.Instead I had--"Miss Colton," I begged, "please don't.Please!"No answer; only another sob.I tried again.
"I have been a cad," I cried."I have treated you abominably.Idon't expect you to forgive me, but--"
"I--I am so frightened!" The confession was a soliloquy, I think;not addressed to me at all.But I heard it and forgot everything else.I let go of the wheel altogether and bent over her, both hands outstretched, to--the Lord knows what.I was not responsible just then.
