When the boats left the _Sally_, Mr. Ham's in the lead as of right,
Faith came from the after deck to where Noll stood by the rail and
touched his arm. He turned and looked down at her.... He was already
regretting what had happened. His recognition of Brander's courage had
been the last flame of nobility from the man's soul; he was to go down,
thereafter, into lower and lower depths.... He was already regretful and
ashamed....
Faith touched his arm; he looked down and saw pride and happiness in her
eyes; and with the curious lack of logic of the male, he was the more
ashamed of what he had done because she was proud of him for it. She
said softly:
"That was fine, Noll."
"Fine--hell!" he said hoarsely. "I ought to have smashed him."
Faith smiled; she shook her head.... Her hand rested on his arm; and as
he turned to look after the departing boats, she leaned a little against
him. He mumbled: "Fool.... That's what I was. I ought to have smashed
him. Now he--every man aboard--they'll think they can pull it on me...."
His big fists clenched. "By God, I'll show 'em. I'll string him up for a
licking, time he gets back."
"I was--very proud," she said. "If you had struck him, I should have
been ashamed."
"That's the woman of it," he jeered. "Damn it, Faith; you can't run a
whaler with kisses...."
She studied his countenance. He was flushed, nervous, his lips
moving.... He took off his cap to wipe his forehead; and his bald head
and his gray hair and the slack muscles of his cheeks reminded her again
that he was an old, an aging man.... She felt infinitely sorry for him;
she patted his arm comfortingly.
He shook her off. "Yes, by God," he swore. "When he gets back, I'll tie
him up and give him the rope.... Show the dog...."
Roy had come up behind them; neither had heard him. The boy cried:
"That's right, sir. The man thinks he's running the _Sally_, sir. You've
got to handle him."