In reply, and quite without premeditation, his hand went out to hers, covering it as it lay on the railing. But he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it was the boy that returned the pressure he gave, the boy sorrowing over the lost toy. The thought chilled him. Never had he been actually nearer to her, and never had she been more convincingly remote. She was certainly not acutely aware that his hand was touching hers. In her grief at the departure of the _Martha_ it was, to her, anybody's hand--at the best, a friend's hand. He withdrew his hand and walked perturbedly away. "Why hasn't he got that big fisherman's staysail on her?" she demanded irritably. "It would make the old girl just walk along in this breeze. I know the sort old Kinross is. He's the skipper that lies three days under double-reefed topsails waiting for a gale that doesn't come. Safe? Oh, yes, he's safe--dangerously safe." Sheldon retraced his steps. "Never mind," he said. "You can go sailing on the _Martha_ any time you please--recruiting on Malaita if you want to." It was a great concession he was making, and he felt that he did it against his better judgment. Her reception of it was a surprise to him. "With old Kinross in command?" she queried. "No, thank you. He'd drive me to suicide. I couldn't stand his handling of her. It would give me nervous prostration. I'll never step on the _Martha_ again, unless it is to take charge of her. I'm a sailor, like my father, and he could never bear to see a vessel mishandled. Did you see the way Kinross got under way? It was disgraceful. And the noise he made about it! Old Noah did better with the Ark." "But we manage to get somewhere just the same," he smiled. "So did Noah." "That was the main thing." "For an antediluvian." She took another lingering look at the _Martha_, then turned to Sheldon. "You are a slovenly lot down here when it comes to boats--most of you are, any way. Christian Young is all right though, Munster has a slap- dash style about him, and they do say old Nielsen was a crackerjack. But with the rest I've seen, there's no dash, no go, no cleverness, no real sailor's pride. It's all humdrum, and podgy, and slow-going, any going so long as you get there heaven knows when. But some day I'll show you how the _Martha_ should be handled. I'll break out anchor and get under way in a speed and style that will make your head hum; and I'll bring her alongside the wharf at Guvutu without dropping anchor and running a line." She came to a breathless pause, and then broke into laughter, directed, he could see, against herself. "Old Kinross is setting that fisherman's staysail," he remarked quietly. "No!" she cried incredulously, swiftly looking, then running for the telescope. She regarded the manoeuvre steadily through the glass, and Sheldon, watching her face, could see that the skipper was not making a success of it. She finally lowered the glass with a groan.