Now there was mockery in her eyes. His face hardened.
“I must be on my way,” he said curtly. “We have been looking things over down below. The Captain is waiting for our report.”
He bowed and started off. She swung along at his side.
“What have you discover, Mr. Percivail?” she inquired anxiously.
“That, Madame Obosky, is something that will have to come from Captain Trigger.”
The lurching of the ship threw her body against his. She righted herself promptly, but did not reveal the slightest confusion nor utter a word of apology.
“By Jove, you're a cool one!” he exclaimed. “I don't believe you know the meaning of fear. Don't you realize, Madame Obosky, that we are in the gravest peril? Don't you know this ship has but one chance in a thousand to pull through?”
“Ah, my friend, but it has the one chance, has it not? Surely I know the meaning of fear. I am afraid of rats and snakes and thieves--and drunken soldiers. I am afraid of death,--terribly afraid of death. Oh, yes, I know what fear is, Mr. Percivail.”
“Then, why don't you show it now?” he cried. “Good Lord, I don't mind confessing that I'm scared half to death. I don't want to die like this,--like a rat in a trap.”
“But you are not going to die,” she proclaimed. “I too would be groaning and praying in my bed if I thought we were going down to the bottom of zis dreadful ocean. But we are not. I have no fear. We shall come out all right on top, and some day we will laugh and tell funny stories about how everybody else was frightened but us,--us apiece, I mean.”
“Well, you're a wonder! And how the deuce do you manage to keep your feet with the ship rolling like this?”
“Two things I have been taught, since I am ten years old. First, to keep my head, and second to keep my feet. In my profession, one must do both. You will always find me doing that. Good-bye,--we part here. You will not forget zat--that I have retain the bandage for you? And you will not ever despise me?”
As she turned away a roll that must have caused the wallowing vessel to list thirty-five degrees at the very least, sent her headlong across the passage. She slipped down in a heap. The same lurch had sent him reeling against the wall some distance away. She sat up but did not at once attempt to arise. Instead she clutched frantically at her skirt to draw it down over her shapely ankles and calves. In the lantern light he saw the dismayed, shamed look in her eyes and the vivid blush of embarrassment that suffused her pale cheeks. As the ship rolled back, he moved forward to assist her, but she sprang lightly to her feet and hurried on ahead of him, disappearing around a corner.