Page:Short Stories (1912).djvu/139

132 dead. How's the barometer?" It was not low—and had even risen a little.

"Thank God!" muttered the mate. Then after a pause, he put his mouth close to my ear and shouted: "I must get south—the nearest doctor's is Cooktown—I must yetget [sic] south."

Then he seemed to ponder. Presently quite abruptly he bawled out: "You've a mate's ticket, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir," I yelled back.

"Well, you'll have to be mate now—and come aft with your dunnage."

"Aye, aye, sir!" I felt a glow of exultation at being mate even of a little schooner. The gale was short-lived and soon we were staying our course to the southward with a couple of reefs down, and making good way.

I came aft and took up my quarters in the mate's old room, he moving his gear into the skipper's.

Poor Mr. Chris! He nursed that woman as tenderly as anyone could do, watching her night and day. No one but myself knew the secret he kept hidden away as he thought to himself.

We had crawled slowly down, beating against the southeast wind and were well clear of the islands, and standing in for Cook's passage again in the Great Barrier reef. Mrs. Dane asked to be brought on deck, and so we put up an awning and fixed mattresses on top of the house on which we placed her. She was terribly changed. Death was written clearly in her face, which was bloodless, and her voice was scarcely audible. She looked helpless about—and a faint smile flitted over her lips as she recognized me.

"You've come aft—haven't you?" she whispered.

"Yes, m'm."

"That's good!" Then after a little pause—

"I'm captain of the schooner now, you know. She belongs to me."

"Yes, m'm."