Crazy Radio eBooks

"
"I think you said 'reserved,'" whispered Isobel to her companion with a
wicked little laugh. To Courtenay, peering through a hatch in the
hurricane deck, she cried:
"Is the brass rail more dependable than you, captain?"
"It will serve your present purpose, Miss Baring," said he, not taking
the hint.
Gathering her skirts daintily in her left hand, Isobel tripped up the
steep stairs. Elsie followed. Courtenay, who had the manner and
semblance of the first lieutenant of a warship, stood outside a haven
of plate glass, shining mahogany, and white paint. The woodwork of the
deck was scrubbed until it had the color of new bread. An officer
paced the bridge; a sailor, within the chart-house, held the small
wheel of the steam steering-gear. Somewhat to Isobel's surprise,
neither man seemed to be aware of her presence.
"So this is your den?" she said, throwing her bird-like glance over the
bright interior, before she gave the commander a look which was
designed to bewitch him instantly. "Surely you don't sleep here, too?"
"Oh, no. This room is the brain of the ship, Miss Baring.


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