The long hours of the night dragged
past. Dimly dawn crept along the dark line of the horizon, circling
all her world as far as Sheila could see it from her bed. But it was
still dark below her north window when she caught the sound of a
familiar step, the crunch of gravel under Tunis' boot.

She lay shaking for a moment, holding her breath. She heard the tiny
pebbles rattle upon the window sill. For the first time she had not
been downstairs to greet Tunis on his way to the port. Could she let
him go now without a word?

But she must! She must be firm.

Nevertheless, she slipped softly out of bed. The pebbles rattled
again. She caught up a dark veil from her bureau and wrapped it
about her face. She crept to the north window. The veil would mask
her face so that he could not distinguish it in the shadow.

But she could look down upon him. She saw him standing there so
firmly--so determinedly. His was no nature to give over easily
anything he had set his heart on. All the more reason why Sheila
should not appear to weaken.

She crouched there breathlessly as he tossed up more pebbles. Then
she heard him sigh. Then he turned slowly away, and his feet dragged
off along the path, and he went out of sight.

The girl crept back into bed. She hid her face in the pillow and dry
sobs racked her frame. This was the hardest of all the hard things
she had to do. She had wounded Tunis to the heart!

CHAPTER XXIV

EUNEZ PARETA

Tunis Latham went down the track toward the port as the dull dawn
glimmered behind him in a frame of mind so dismal and despairing
that more than Sheila Macklin would have pitied the captain of the
_Seamew_. Against the tide of emotions which now surged in his heart
he scarcely had the energy to battle.

Never had he felt less like approaching his usual tasks as commander
and owner of the schooner and facing the trials he knew would meet
him upon this coming trip to Boston. Freight was waiting upon Luiz
Wharf, and he would be able to pick up the remainder of his cargo at
Hollis, which, with the wind as it was now, he could reach that
afternoon by four o'clock. Given good luck, he would warp into the
T-wharf next day before nightfall.

The uncertain point which troubled him most was the matter of the
crew of the _Seamew_. The Portygees remaining with him--even Johnny
Lark, the cook--had been in a most unhappy temper all the way back
from Boston on the last trip. Tunis could depend upon