Then her swimming eyes rested on a group of men standing on the poop. Among them was Christobal, interested, like the rest, in the floating of the mine. And forthwith Elsie fell from the clouds, and was brought back, shuddering, to cold reason again. She was sick at heart; she hated herself for her self-abasement. She must gird her with sackcloth and mourn; and the fight must be fought now, without parley or hesitation, unless the sweetness were to go forth from life for ever, and all things should turn to ashes in her mouth. So, marshaling the best qualities of her womanhood, she quelled the turmoil in her breast, forced herself to join the men on the after deck, and said, when the smiling Spaniard turned to receive her: “Why am I denied the mild excitement of mine-laying, Dr. Christobal? Is it that you dread the effect on my nerves of these murderous preparations?” “No,” he answered, making room for her at the railing by his side. “I had missed you, of course, but I thought you were resting.” “Resting, indeed! I have been quite busy. Where do they mean to put the second contrivance?” “About there,” he said, indicating a point on the surface of the bay eastward of the canoe. His right arm was extended, and he placed his left hand on her shoulder. Courtenay, hailing Walker, saw the two leaning over the rails in that attitude. Perhaps one of the two hoped that Courtenay would see them. Elsie, as part of her punishment, did not shrink away, though the touch of Christobal’s hand made her flesh creep. But Joey, whose mind was singularly free from complexities, leaped up at her. He wanted Elsie to tell him what Courtenay was doing out there, so far away from the ship. She stooped and picked him up. Christobal had no excuse for a second caress. “Bark, Joey,” she whispered, “bark and call your master. If anything happens to him, you and I shall never see England again. And I am longing for home to-day.” CHAPTER XIII. THE FIGHT Christmas Day arrived, and maintained its kindly repute by finding affairs on board the _Kansas_ changed for the better. Mr. Boyle was so far recovered that he could walk; he even took command of two watches in the twenty-four hours, but was forbidden to exert himself, lest the wound in his back should reopen. Several injured sailors and firemen were convalescent; the two most serious cases were out of danger; Frascuelo, hardy as a weed, dared the risk of using his damaged leg, and survived, though his progress along the deck was painful. Nevertheless, on Christmas morning he presented himself before the captain, and asked leave to abandon his present quarters. He felt lonely in the forecastle, and wished to berth with the other Chileans in the neighborhood of the saloon. Although his luck was bad in some respects, the coal-trimmer was endowed with the nine lives of a cat, for there could be no manner of doubt that he dragged himself aft just in time to avoid being killed.