"Woman."
"You've got good eyes."
"I know what to look for."
"What?"
"Men—got nothing on—women wear a bit of a grass girdle."
"Oh!" said the wife. "Is that all?"
"'Bout all."
Then there was silence for a while.
"The woman is paddling the little canoe towards us," she said presently, with the glasses up again.
"Is she?"
Dane didn't seem interested.
"Yes! She's waving a red rag of some sort."
"The devil!" said Dane, and then turning suddenly to his wife he said, "I want to talk to you a minute down below."
He did not wait to see if she followed him down the companion.
The woman rose wonderingly, placed the glasses in her chair and followed. I noticed Mr. Chris, who was on watch, edged up near the skylight. I don't say he was listening, but it looked that way, though all the time he kept his eyes up aloft, as if he was watching the sails. As there wasn't any wind it didn't seem a necessary thing to do.
I heard voices down in the captain's cabin. They seemed angry—there was no mistake about the words which sounded shrilly even through the bulkhead. "You blackguard!"
Then all was quiet. The captain came out of the cabin, and locked the door after him.
"Let me out!" screamed the voice from within. "Let me out, will you?"
"No, I won't. It's no use making a dd fuss about it. Keep quiet!"
Then he came up on deck and spoke to the mate.
