"
"Well, they won't poison you," said the mate resentfully. "Your father
left his at Ipswich to have 'em cobbled up a bit."
The girl passed them up on the deck, and, closing the companion with a
bang, disappeared. It is possible that the fatigues of the day had been
too much for her, for when she awoke, and consulted the little silver
watch that hung by her bunk, it was past five o'clock, and the red glow
of the sun was flooding the cabin as she arose and hastily dressed.
The deck was drying in white patches as she went above, and the mate was
sitting yawning at the wheel, his eyelids red for want of sleep.
"Didn't I tell you to call me at two o'clock?" she demanded, confronting
him.
"It's all right," said the mate. "I thought when you woke would be soon
enough. You looked tired."
"I think you'd better go when we get to Ipswich," said the girl,
tightening her lips. "I'll ship somebody who'll obey orders."
"I'll go when we get back to London," said the mate. "I'll hand this
barge over to the cap'n, and nobody else."
"Well, we'll see," said the girl, as she took the wheel, "_I_ think
you'll go at Ipswich."
For the remainder of the voyage the subject was not alluded to; the
mate, in a spirit of sulky pride, kept to the fore part of the boat,
except when he was steering, and, as far as practicable, the girl
ignored his presence.
Pages:
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95