He came to me, put his hand on my shoulder, bent his face close to mine, and said in a low voice, ‘Do not fear for me; I shall kill him. As you value my love’--his tone faltered--‘do not come by so much as a hair’s breadth between me and my resolution to take his life. If he will not fight me on board my yacht, he shall fight me on yonder vessel. He is a soldier--a colonel; he will not refuse my challenge. Come, my programme is arranged; we are now wasting time.’ He stepped from his berth and I followed him. As I turned to ascend the companion steps, Wilfrid being in advance of me, mounting with impetuosity, I saw Miss Jennings come out of her berth. I waited for her. Her face was bloodless, yet I was glad to see something like resolution expressed in it. ‘Is it true, Mr. Monson, that my sister is close to us in a ship?’ she asked. ‘She and the Colonel,’ I answered; ‘within eyeshot--that is to say, when they step on deck.’ She put her hand to her breast, and drew several short breaths. ‘Pray take courage,’ I said; ‘it is for your sister to tremble--not you.’ ‘How has Wilfrid received this piece of extraordinary news?’ she asked, with a sort of panting in her way of speaking. ‘He is as unmoved, I give you my word, as if he were of cast iron. You shall judge; he has preceded us.’ I took her hand and led her up the ladder. Crimp’s brother had apparently just climbed over the yacht’s side. As I made my appearance he was coming aft from the gangway in company with Finn and surly old Jacob. All three rumbled with talk at once as they made, with a deep sea roll, for Wilfrid, who was standing so as to keep the mainmast of the yacht between him and the barque. Miss Jennings started and stopped on seeing the vessel, that had closed us somewhat since she had first hove-to, so that it was almost possible now to distinguish the faces of her people. When my companion moved again she seemed to shrink--almost cower indeed, and passed to the right of me as though to hide herself. Then peeping past me at the vessel, she said, ‘I see no lady on board.’ ‘Your sister is still below, I expect,’ I answered. She left me and clasped my cousin’s arm, just saying, ‘Oh, Wilfrid!’ in a tearful, pitiful voice. He gazed down at her and pressed his hand upon hers with a look of dreadful grief entering his face swiftly as a blush suffuses a woman’s cheek; but the expression passed quickly. Something he said in a whisper, then lightly freed his arm from her clasp and turned to the master of the barque. ‘Captain Crimp, your honour,’ said Finn, knuckling his forehead; ‘Jacob’s brother, Sir Wilfrid.’