When I reached the deck, I was satisfied that the boom had not been the author of the mischief, and that neither of the parties had fallen overboard. The Marian still held her course towards the south-east, and the skipper and the lady were both in the standing-room, though not in the same position that I left them half an hour before. Mr. Waterford was at the helm, of course; but Miss Collingsby was seated as far from him as the limits of the seats would permit. I went aft, and saw that the fair young lady was very red in the face, and apparently very angry. I was puzzled at the situation, and quite unable to explain it. "Is dinner ready, Phil?" asked Mr. Waterford. "Not yet." "Well, hurry it up. We are growing hungry," added the skipper; but I saw that his desire to get rid of me was greater than his appetite. "I heard a scream here," I replied, determined not to be put out of the way, if my presence or my assistance was needed. "No, you didn't. That was nothing. Miss Collingsby was singing on the high notes." I glanced at her. She did not look cheerful enough to sing, but angry enough to touch the high notes, though not the melodious ones. "I will go down and see you cook, Phil," said she, with a struggle to appear composed, though it was not a success. I descended to the cabin, and turned to assist her down the steps. "Stop a few moments, Miss Collingsby, if you please," interposed Mr. Waterford. "I wish to speak to you." "I will come up again," she replied, leaping lightly upon the cabin floor. "I am afraid you will find the cook-room rather hot for you," I added, as I led the way forward. I opened the door into the kitchen, and gave her a seat within the cabin, where she could observe all that was done. I fancied, however, that she did not care much just then how beefsteak and sliced potatoes were cooked on board of a yacht, and that she only desired to escape from the presence of the gallant skipper. I put the beefsteak upon the stove. I had set the table after preparing the potatoes, and I had nothing to do but watch the meat. "That is a real nice little place, Phil," said Miss Collingsby; and her tones indicated that she had not yet recovered her self-possession. "It is rather small, though it is as roomy as any yacht of this size can have." "I think it is quite cool, with that scuttle open." "I don't mind the heat; but I am used to it." "Do you think we shall overtake Mr. Whippleton, Phil?" asked she, after a pause, during which I turned the steak. "I don't think we have gained on her any yet," I replied. "I don't believe he means to catch her," added my fair companion, with a very anxious expression. "We are certainly following the Florina, though we are at least three miles from her. I don't think we shall overhaul her till she comes about, or makes a harbor."