This time the dog understood. He sprang to the ladder and vanished, and a moment later Julia's cries were piercing. But it was merely the noise of terror such as would be excited in a girl awakened from a sound sleep by the resolute drag of a dog's teeth. She understood the thing in a minute, patted the dog, who was dragging her by her skirt to the ladder, snatched up her hat and the captain's cloak, and arrived on deck with the dog, whose tail timed the wag of the stars over the mastheads. "Have you slept?" he asked. "Too well," she answered. "I screamed because Sailor broke in upon a nightmare and fitted it." "Will you be able to hold the wheel?" "I'll try. What is the time?" "After midnight--nearly one bell," he answered. She stood at the wheel, and her firm grasp was full of promise of control. "Is that the course?" she inquired, looking into the compass. "Yes, and keep her to it as best you can by the starshine whilst I trim the lamp." "What is our pace, dear?" "Six and a half at least," he answered. He made haste to trim the lamp and saw to the side-lights, and his spirits were high and his hope more exalted yet when he saw how well the girl steered. A big ship for a girl to control! And all the sweet archness of her incomparable posture was unconsciously expressed to her lover as he flashed the light over her before adjusting it for the illumination of the card. "Now for a little supper," said he, "then I shall lie down." He fetched some food and wine, and ate himself whilst he helped Julia to eat; the dog was remembered; and all the while he kept his eyes fixed in critical attention upon the girl's handling of the wheel. "Sailor, go forward and keep a lookout, sir," he exclaimed, and this was an order which, as you know, the dog understood, and was accustomed to obey. He had supped and was thankful, and, faithful to his duty as Tom Bowline, the brave Newfoundland trotted forward to the forecastle, and took up a position of lookout betwixt the knight-heads. "Here is my watch, Julia," said Hardy. "Call me at half-past two--but sooner, at the instant of need, if your arm should weary or the breeze shift and drive you off your course. I am a sailor and used to keeping my ears open in sleep. I am close beside you there, and your first cry will bring me out like a cork to the drag of a corkscrew." "I will call you at half-past two," she answered. "She is as easy to steer as a boat. Look how steady the course swings at the mark there!"