Yet, two hours! Could he dare to hope for so
long a respite? How could the ship escape the unnumbered fangs which a
storm-torn land thrust far out into the Pacific for its own protection?
He was quite sheltered from the wind and spray in the chart-house, and,
all at once, he became aware of a burning thirst. There was water in a
decanter close at hand, so he indulged in a long drink. That was
wonderfully vivifying. Then his mind turned longingly to tobacco. For
the first time in his life he broke the strict rule of the service in
which he had been trained--and smoked a cigar while on duty.
Now and again he spoke cheerily to the dog. It would be:
"Well, Joey, here we are; still got a bark in us!" . . . Or, "You and I
must have our names on the Admiralty chart, Joey:--'Channel surveyed by
Captain Courtenay and pup; details uncertain.' How does that sound, old
chap?" And again, "I suppose your friend, Miss Maxwell, is asleep by
this time. If she calls you 'Joey,' do you call her 'Elsie'? I rather
fancy Elsie as a name. What do you think?"
To all of which the dog, who had found a dry corner, would respond with a
smile and a tail-wag.
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