On one such evening, following a day of fretful and biting rain, the sky had cleared towards sunset, and they were tacking out to sea for a mile or two under a northeasterly wind, to anchor, as soon as the land-breeze dropped, at the end of the second tack, making, if possible, a dark wooded promontory which lay due east. The Capsina always kept as near as possible to the shore, so as not to run the least risk of missing the Turkish ships, which, as they knew, were going from village to village, and a watch was kept for the enemy's ships, the Capsina offering a prize to the sailor who first sighted them. Mitsos had come slipping and sliding across the deck with Christos in his arms, and a sudden roll of the ship had come near upsetting them. "So, hereafter," said Mitsos, "you shall shift for yourself, Christos, for you put on the weight of a sack of corn every day. You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" "Not in any way." "Are you sure?" The Capsina burst out laughing. "Oh, little Mitsos, that I should compare you to a hen. But a hen with one chicken, no other--you and Christos." Mitsos sat down and filled his pipe and Christos's. "Well, I know one who clucked considerably over a baby," he said. "And I like taking care of people. There's your pipe, lad. Open your mouth." The Capsina laughed again. "Chuck, chuck, chuck," said she. "Well, let me have two chickens, then," cried Mitsos. "What can I do for you, Capsina?" "You can be my very good comrade." "Surely, I hope so. But let me fuss for you. Christos is getting well, and I must take care of somebody." "Well, you can tell me if it is time to put about." "Eh, but I didn't bargain that I should have to get up," said Mitsos, raising himself foot by foot, and looking out. "Well, yes, we shall make that promontory on the next tack, and then we can lie to. Nothing been seen of the devils, Dimitri?" Dimitri shrugged his shoulders. "Well, we'll put about. You'd best move, Christos. When we go on the other tack you'll get wet there." "It is of no consequence whether I get wet," remarked Sophia. "Well, come along, then," said Mitsos. "I'll carry you across first." Sophia hesitated. "Help me up, then," said she, and laughed. Mitsos bent down, gathered her up, and staggered across the deck with her, half laughing, half puzzled. "Eh, but God made you a big woman," he said. "Why, Christos is half your weight. Steady, now." But the Capsina slipped from his arms. "Oh, Christos; it is always Christos!" she cried. "There, go and fetch him, little Mitsos! He is trying to walk himself, and he will get a fall."