"Sure," Brander chuckled. "And when you've been a month ashore, you'll be hungry for the sea again. It's like a drug; you get used to it, and you can't do without it." She looked at him. "Do you think so?" "I know it. Wait and see." After a little, she spoke of the ill luck that had pursued the _Sally_. "Isn't it unusual to go almost six weeks without getting a whale?" "No, not necessarily," he told her. "You may kill every other day for a year, and not see a fish for three months after. The whale seems to come and go, in some waters...." "These?" she asked. He nodded. "It's uncertain, here. We're working over now into better hunting grounds. The _Sally's_ done well, thus far, anyway. Almost a thousand barrels, and not out a year. I've heard of ships that came home with empty casks." She looked at him curiously. "I think you know more about the work than most men aboard," she said. "Yet you've not had the experience...." "I've picked it up at games, read it, guessed it," he said pleasantly. "They know more about the practical end than I. I haven't been tried out yet, you know." She smiled. "Mr. Tichel says you're a Jonah," she told him. "I think he would be in favor of throwing you overboard." He laughed cheerfully. She added: "I hope you're not one. I'm anxious that Cap'n Wing should make a big record on this cruise. It's my first with him, you know...." His eyes were sober; but he said: "We'll fill the casks, all right. I wouldn't worry." She looked toward him and said: "Yes, we will." There was an immense amount of quiet certainty and determination in her voice. Brander looked at her for an instant, then turned to give some direction to the man at the wheel. The _Sally_ heeled awkwardly to the thrust of the wind, and battered at the sea with her blunt bows. The rigging creaked and tugged. Willis Cox, under the boathouse, had dropped his book in his lap and was dozing in his chair; the two harpooners had gone below. Forward, Faith could see two or three men sprawled on the deck, asleep.... The warm, afternoon wind seemed slumber laden; the _Sally Sims_ herself was like a ship that walked in her sleep. A hush hung over them all, so that Faith and Brander unconsciously lowered their voices. Faith asked casually: "Why is it that you and Mr. Tobey do not like each other?" If he was surprised at the question, Brander did not show it. He said frankly: "I've no dislike for Mr. Tobey. He's an able officer. He knows his business." "He does not like you," Faith said. "Why not?" Brander smiled. "It may be," he admitted, "that Mr. Tobey is lacking in a sense of humor. I've a way of laughing at things.... Mr. Trant, on the _Thomas Morgan_, used to curse me for grinning so much of the time. Perhaps Mr. Tobey...."