“Why, of course it does!” cried Elizabeth. “What can you be thinking of? People who walk backward are in great danger of running into other people. Why not the same with ships? It seems to me, it’s a very dangerous piece of business, sailing backward.” “Oh, nonsense,” snapped Mrs. Noah. “You are as timid as a zebra. During the Flood, we sailed days and days and days, going backward. It didn’t make a particle of difference how we went—it was as safe one way as another, and we got just as far away in the end. Our main object now is to get away from the pirates, and that’s what we are doing. Don’t get emotional, Lizzie, and remember, too, that I am in charge. If I think the boat ought to go sideways, sideways she shall go. If you don’t like it, it is still not too late to put you ashore.” The threat calmed Elizabeth somewhat, and she was satisfied, and all went well with them, even if Portia had started the propeller revolving reverse fashion; so that the House-boat was, as Elizabeth had said, backing her way through the ocean. The day passed, and by slow degrees the island and the marooned pirates faded from view, and the night came on, and with it a dense fog. “We’re going to have a nasty night, I am afraid,” said Xanthippe, looking anxiously out of the port. “No doubt,” said Mrs. Noah, pleasantly. “I’m sorry for those who have to be out in it.” “That’s what I was thinking about,” observed Xanthippe. “It’s going to be very hard on us keeping watch.” “Watch for what?” demanded Mrs. Noah, looking over the tops of her glasses at Xanthippe. “Why, surely you are going to have lookouts stationed on deck?” said Elizabeth. “Not at all,” said Mrs. Noah. “Perfectly absurd. We never did it on the Ark, and it isn’t necessary now. I want you all to go to bed at ten o’clock. I don’t think the night air is good for you. Besides, it isn’t proper for a woman to be out after dark, whether she’s new or not.” “But, my dear Mrs. Noah,” expostulated Cleopatra, “what will become of the ship?” “I guess she’ll float through the night whether we are on deck or not,” said the commander. “The Ark did, why not this? Now, girls, these new-fangled yachting notions are all nonsense. It’s night, and there’s a fog as thick as a stone-wall all about us. If there were a hundred of you upon deck with ten eyes apiece, you couldn’t see anything. You might much better be in bed. As your captain, chaperon, and grandmother, I command you to stay below.” “But—who is to steer?” queried Xanthippe.