world as her own. Strange attitude for a wealthy feminist, but she had the
attitude! And, moreover, she enjoyed having it; she revelled in it. She
desired, impatiently, that Mr. Gilman should proceed further. She thirsted
for his next remark. And her extremely deceptive features displayed only a
blend of simplicity and soft pity. Those features did not actually lie, for
she was ingenuous without being aware of it and her pity for the
fellow-creature whose lot she could assuage with a glance was real enough.
But they did suppress about nine-tenths of the truth.

"I tell you," said Mr. Gilman, "there is nothing I could not say to you.
And--and--of course, you'll say I scarcely know you--yet----"

Clearly he was proceeding further. She waited as in a theatre one waits for
a gun to go off on the stage. And then the gun did go off, but not the gun
she was expecting.

Skipper Wyatt's head popped up like a cannon shot out of a hole in the
forward deck, and it gazed sharply and apprehensively around the calm,
moonlit sea. Mr. Gilman was, beyond question, perturbed by the movements of
that head, though he could not see the expression of the eyes. This was
the first phenomenon. The second phenomenon was a swirling of water round
the after part of the ship, and this swirling went on until the water was
white with a thin foam.

"Reverse those d----d engines!" shouted Captain Wyatt, quite regardless of
the proximity of refined women. He had now sprung clear of the hole and
was running aft. The whole world of the yacht could not but see that he
was coatless and that his white shirtsleeves, being rather long, were kept
in position by red elastic rings round his arms. "Is that blithering
engineer asleep?" continued Captain Wyatt, ignoring the whole system of
yacht etiquette. "She's getting harder on every second!"

"Ay, ay, skipper!" came a muffled voice from the engine-room.

"And not too soon either!" snapped the captain.

The yacht throbbed more violently; the swirling increased furiously. The
captain stared over the rail. Then, after an interval, he stamped on the
deck in disgust.

"Shut off!" he yelled. "It's no good."

The yacht ceased to throb. The swirling came to an end, and the thin white
foam faded into flat sombre water. Whereupon Captain Wyatt turned back to
the wheel, which, in his extreme haste, he had passed by.

"You've run her on to the sand, sir," said he to Mr. Gilman, respectfully
but still accusingly.