Everything was a-drip. There was scarcely breeze enough to keep steerage-way, and the knowledge of the swift tides and eddies and the treacherous southern extremity of Nova Scotia did not tend to have a soothing effect on the nerves of Captain Bell. He was standing on the weather side, just abaft the mainmast, muffled to the ears in a heavy ulster, with a deer-stalker's hat pulled down over his eyes and a very long cigar, which reminded one of a spinnaker-boom, sticking straight out from his damp, rubicund face. Altogether, he looked more like a discontented British tourist than an ex-naval officer conning his yacht through the fog. At sea, Bell always stood watch-and-watch with Heldstrom, and did his own navigating. "This is the sort of weather that makes you more indulgent toward power!" he growled, waddling up to join Paula and Huntington. "I'll bet our bloomin' Pilot-fish wishes that _he_ had some!" "Do you suppose that he is out in this?" Wood asked. "Sure. He took my challenge, so the chances are that he followed us out last night. If he'd waited until this morning, he'd have missed the tide." "Poor little _Daffodil_!" said Paula. "It's no place for her out here! I hate to think of it!" "She's all right," growled Bell. "Don't you worry about her!" "How is the betting?" asked Wood. Bell grinned. "The sailing-master is offering two to one that Applebo will be in Halifax harbour within four hours of ourselves. He used to bet against the Pilot-fish, but since he found out that he is a square-head, he backs him. The bosun offers even money that we get there first, and the cook has taken him on for a 'V,' but then the cook's a fool! In light airs the yawl can out-sail us, as unless there's half a gale, this tub is so slow that if it weren't for her sails they'd take her for a light-vessel. But I can out-navigate the chump, and we'll save on steering a truer course." "Don't try to cut corners, papa," said Paula. "You might cut one off the schooner." "No danger. I didn't serve for twenty-five years in the U.S. Navy for nothin'...." He glanced forward, then raised his voice: "Lookout, there, why don't you report that bell? What d'ye think you are ... the figger-head?" "Bell on der poort bow, zir...!" bawled the lad. "All right," snapped the owner. "I'm deaf already from listenin' to it. Don't try to make me any deafer. Now keep your lugs buttoned back and see if you can't hear the next one before I do!" Bell stumped aft to look at the taffrail log, then to the companionway for a peep at the barometer. "Glass risin'," he announced. "This stuff will blow off before noon and then we may get a bit of a breeze." He went forward, pausing at the door of the galley to watch the cook, wishing mightily that his watch was over that he might get to work on a ragoût. Paula looked at Wood and laughed.