"I didn't know what they were going to do."
"You do! It's in your eyes, your lips, I know you do!"
"If I told you it would be impossible to manage you!"
Evan laughed a peal. "Darling stubborn child! Then kiss me of your own free will and I'll let you go."
Evan's talk with Corinna did not help him at all with the brotherhood. Whether they knew or not that he had had his five minutes with her, the fact that Corinna had ordered him put ashore and had then countermanded the order, was enough to rouse their jealous suspicions. One and all they sent Evan to Coventry. Let him work as willingly and cheerfully as he might, they ignored him: when they met they looked straight through him or over his head. Evan told himself he didn't care--and devoted his time to the children; but he was a man, and the heart in his breast was hot against them. With the children his popularity grew apace.
To-day the _Ernestina_ was bound for Sandy Hook to give the small passengers a sight of the real ocean. They saw the ocean, and were not much impressed. Apparently they had expected the waves to come rolling in mountains high, whereas the ocean was as flat as Central Park lake. To be sure there was a slow swell that mysteriously heaved the _Ernestina_ and troubled squeamish tummies, but it was not at all spectacular.
Later they lay in calm water inside the Hook while everybody ate. As the day wore on the weather began to thicken. The wind veered to the East and blew chill, and banks of white fog gathered on the horizon. Evan wondered why no one gave the word to return. It was hardly his place to interfere, but in the end he felt obliged to.
Tenterden happened to be the one that he spoke to. "We're going to have some dirty weather," Evan said lightly, "and we're a long way from the Bowery."
Tenterden looked him up and down. "Say, are you going to tell us how to run this show?" he asked. "That's good."
Evan shrugged and left him. "I owe you one for that, old man," he thought. "All right, my time will come."
Someone did give the word, and the little _Ernestina_ started back up the lower Bay at her customary head-long rate of eight miles an hour. And none too soon; the white wall of fog was creeping fast on her trail.
