But he could not let Fenella go. It was a sin to go to bed at all on such a heavenly night. At last, at the top of the companion, he loosed her arm, with a slow asundering, and said, "The Governor says we are to breakfast at Port St. Mary--do you think we shall if this calm continues?" She laughed (her laugh seemed to come up from her heart) and said, "I'm not worrying about that." "No?" "When a woman has all she wants in the world in one place why should she wish to go to another?" "And have you?" "Good-night!" she said, holding out both hands. He caught them, and the touch communicated fire. At the next moment he had lifted her hands to his lips. She drew them down, and his hands with them, pressed them to her breast and then broke away, and was gone in an instant. Stowell gasped. "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" Nothing else mattered! Let the world rip! II Stowell did not go below that night. For two hours he tramped the deck, laughing to himself like a lunatic. "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" When the watch had to be changed at two o'clock he sent the man to his berth and took his place. And when the dawn broke and the lamps of the fishing fleet blinked out, and the boats showed grey, like ghosts, on the colourless waste around, and the monotonous chanting of the crews far and near told him the nets were being hauled in, he shouted down the fo'c'sle for the men. And when they came on deck he helped them to haul in their own net and to empty their catch (it was the Governor's order) into the first "Nickey" that came along. The grey sky in the east had reddened to a flame by this time. Then up from the round rim of the sea rose the everlasting sun, and lo, it was day! God, what an enchanted world it was! All the glory and majesty of the sea seemed to be singing hymns to the same tune as that of his own heart: "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" A light wind sprang up, a cool blowing from the south, just enough to ripple the surface of the water. Already some of the fishing boats had swung about and were standing off for home. Stowell helped to haul the mainsail, and shouted with the men as they pulled at the ropes and the white canvas rose above them. "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" Within half an hour the wind had freshened to a summer gale and they were running before a roaring sea. The sails bellied out, the yacht listed over, the scuppers were half full of water, but Stowell would not go below. For a long hour more he held on and looked around at the fishing boats as they flew together in the brilliant sunshine between the two immensities of sky and sea. "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!"