‘No!’ she cried. ‘Why do you not order the man to direct her according to your wishes?’ And she sent one of her flashing glances at the hairy face of the sailor who grasped the spokes. ‘The crew are coming aft presently to settle the question of our destination. I can do nothing. If they have made up their minds to a course, they are not going to suffer me to get in the road of it.’ ‘But what course? What resolution are they likely to form?’ she exclaimed, clasping her hands with a gesture of despair, and gazing forwards with an expression of terror at a group of fellows who stood at the galley door talking. ‘I know nothing, and can tell you nothing,’ I replied. ‘It is to signify another tax upon our patience, and we must wait. Some destination they are bound to hit upon; it will not be Rio, I believe. We shall see. They cannot do without me—that is, I alone am capable of navigating the vessel—and in that may lie our security. But one thing you must help me to achieve, Miss Temple: I mean a behaviour of coolness, good temper, and tact. I believe the devil himself is lodged in the hide of that round-backed brute of a carpenter, and the crew may not be wanting in some of the highest flavoured of his agreeable qualities. Help me, then, to the most inoffensive and patient of attitudes, and say nothing yourself—nay, _look_ nothing! for those dark eyes of yours have a hot eloquence of their own, and a man need not hear your rich voice to know what is passing in your mind.’ She forced a calmness upon herself, and spoke in a low voice: ‘If the crew insist upon sailing the ship to some distant part, is there nothing that we can do to induce them to transfer us to another vessel, or to run into the land close enough to set us ashore in any town on the coast?’ ‘First, let them come to a resolution.’ ‘This is a shocking situation to be in! Your old energy seems to be leaving you. You give me dreadful news in a lifeless way, and talk spiritlessly of suffering the crew to do as they please.’ She said this, still preserving her forced composure; but there was ire in her gaze and temper and despair in her respiration, in the twitching of the nostril, in the curl of her lip, when she had spoken. I looked at her steadily, but in silence, weighing down upon her gaze, as it were, with my own until her eyes fell. ‘Not spiritless yet,’ said I. ‘Nor shall I suffer you to make me so, Miss Temple.’