"Why not?"
"A risk I have no right to take; and wasted weeks, out of our course. For
which Asa Worthen pays."
Mark smiled sardonically. "You're vastly more virtuous than any sister
could be, Joel, my dear."
Joel said steadily: "There may be two minds about that. There may be two
minds as to--the duty of a captain to his ship and his owner. But--I've
shown you my mind in the matter."
Mark leaned toward him, eyes half-friendly. "You're wrong, Joel. I'll
convince you."
"You'll not."
"A handful of them," Mark whispered. "Worth anything up to a hundred
thousand. Maybe more. I do not know the little things as well as some.
All for a little jog out of your way...."
Joel shook his head. And Mark, in a sudden surge of anger, stormed to his
feet with clenched hand upraised. "By the Lord, Joel, I'd not have
believed it. You're mad; plain mad--sister, dear! You...."
Joel said quietly: "Your schooner is at Tubuai. I'll set you back there,
if you will."
Mark mocked him. "Would you throw your own brother off the ship he
captained?... Oh hard, hard heart...."
"You may stay, or go," Joel told him. "Have your way."
Mark's eyes for an instant narrowed; they turned toward the door of the
cabin where Priss lay.... And there was a flicker of black hatred in
them, but his voice was suave when he replied: "With your permission,
captain dear, I'll stay."
Joel nodded; he rose. "Young Morrell has given you his bunk," he said.
"So--good night, to you."
He opened the door into the main cabin; and Mark, his fingers twitching,
went out. He turned, spoke over his shoulder. "Good night; and--pleasant
dreams," he said.
X
Even Joel Shore saw the new light in Priscilla's eyes when she met Mark
at breakfast in the cabin next morning; and it is said husbands are the
last to see such things.
That story she had heard the night before, the story Mark told Joel in
the after cabin, had made of him something superhuman in her eyes. He was
a gigantic, an epic figure; he had lived red life, and fought for his
life, and killed.... There was Puritan blood in Priscilla; but
overrunning it was a flood of warmer life, a cross-strain from some
southern forebear, which sang now in answer to the touch of Mark's words.
She watched him, that morning, with wide eyes that were full of wonder
and of awe.
Mark saw, and was immensely amused. He asked her: "Why do you look at me
like that, little sister? I'm not going to bite...."
Priscilla caught herself, and smiled, and laughed at him. "How do I look
at you? You're--imagining things, Mark."
"Am I?" he asked. And he touched Joel's arm. "Look at her, Joel, and see
which of us is right."
Joel was eating his breakfast silently, but he had seen Priscilla's eyes.
He looked toward her now, and she flushed in spite of herself, and got up
quickly, and slipped away.... They watched her go, Joel's eyes clouded
thoughtfully, Mark's shining. And when she was gone, Mark leaned across
and said to Joel softly, a devil of mischief in his eyes: "She heard my
tale last night, Joel. She was not asleep. Fooled you...."