“Full pardon, and possibly wealth with it,” I laughed.  “A beautiful scheme, Dorothy, yet it might work.  Still, if I know sailormen, they would doubt the truth, if it came direct from me, for I am not really one of them.”

“But Watkins is, and he has intelligence.  Explain it all to him; tell him who I am, the influence I can wield in the Colony, and then let him whisper the news to the others.  Will you not do this—­for my sake?”

“Yes,” I answered, “I believe you have found the right course.  If you will promise to lie down, and sleep, I will talk with Watkins now.”

“I promise.  But are you not going to rest?”

“Very little tonight.  I may catch some catnaps before morning, but most of the time shall be prowling about deck.  You see I have no officers to rely upon.  But don’t worry about me—­this sort of life is not new.  Good night, dear girl.”

She extended her arms, and drew me down until our lips met.

“You are actually afraid of me still,” she said wonderingly, “why should you be?”

“I cannot tell; I have never known what it was before.  Somehow Dorothy, you have always seemed so far away from me, I have never been able to forget.  But now the touch of your lips has——­”

“Broken down the last barrier?”

“Yes, forever.”

“Are you sure?  Would you not feel still less doubt if you kissed me again?”

I held her closely, gazing down into the dimly revealed outline of her face, and this time felt myself the master.

“Now I am sure, sweetheart,” I whispered, the note of joy ringing in the words, “that I have won the most precious gift in the world; yet your safety, and those of all on board is in my hands tonight.  I must not forget that.  I am going now to find Watkins, and you have promised to lie down and sleep.”

“To lie down,” she corrected, “but whether to sleep, I cannot tell.”

I left her there, lying hidden and shapeless on the deck beneath the cover of the blanket, her head pillowed on the flags, and groped my own way forward, pausing a moment to gaze into the binnacle, and exchange a word with the man at the wheel.  I found Watkins awake, seated on the forecastle steps, where I joined him, lighting my own pipe for companionship, our conversation gradually drifting toward the point I came to make.  He listened gravely to what I had to say, with little comment, and was evidently weighing every argument in his mind.

“I’ve bin in Virginia, and Maryland, sir,” he said at last seriously, “and if the young woman is a Fairfax, she’ll likely have influence enough ter do just whut she says.  They ain’t over-kind ter pirates in them provinces o’ late, I’ve bin told—­but the savin’ o’ her life wud make a heap o’ difference with the Governor.  Yer know she’s a Fairfax?”

“Absolutely.  I told you the story that night in the forecastle, and I take more risk than any of you in giving myself up.  I was bound in servitude to her uncle, Roger Fairfax, and am therefore a runaway slave.”