“Oh, Mr. Verslun, we are a wreck!” she cried.

“Not quite,” I said, gripping her arm to steady her as The Waif took a header.  “We’ve weathered the worst of it and we’re still sound.  The storm centre has slipped away to the north, and we can count ourselves out of the ruction for the present.”

Her shapely hand clutched my wet oilskins as the yacht plunged from the back of an enormous swell, and I was so busy noting the beauty of the hand that I had no eye for the sallow face that peeped from the companion.  Leith’s bass voice rose above the noise of the waves, and there was an angry note in it.

“This isn’t a nice place for you, Miss Edith!” he cried.

The girl half turned her head, looked at him for a second, then without any intimation that she had heard what he said, she turned again toward me and started to cross-examine me upon the amount of damage we had sustained.  I thought that the white, shapely hand tightened its grip upon my wet sleeve at the moment Leith’s bass voice came booming to our ears, and I blessed the big brute’s interference for the thrill which I derived from the pressure of her fingers upon the greasy coat.

But Leith was not to be denied.  The cold stare, instead of driving him back into the cabin, only roused his temper.  Very cautiously he climbed along the heaving deck to the point where we were standing, and, clutching a rope, he swayed backward and forward immediately behind us.

“Miss Edith!” he called.

The girl turned her head sharply.  “Well?” she cried.

“This isn’t a proper place for you!” roared Leith.  “One of those seas is liable to come aboard at any moment, and you might be washed away before any one could assist you.”

Edith Herndon’s lips showed the slightest trace of a smile.  “You had better be careful too, Mr. Leith,” she retorted.  “Mr. Verslun is holding on to me in case one of those old gray rollers should make a sudden leap, but you have no one to hold on to you.”

A frown passed over Leith’s face like a cloud shadow across a yellow plain.  He slackened his grip on the rope and lurched toward us.

“You must go below at once!” he screamed, addressing the girl.  “Your father is too ill to look after you at this moment, so the duty is mine.  There is danger here, and I order you below!”

He touched her shoulder with his big fingers that resembled talons, but the girl made a quick side movement and slipped from his grip.

“Do not touch me!” she cried fiercely.  “How dare you put your hand on me!”

But Leith’s temper was up at that moment, and he was angry enough for anything.  He made a spring for the girl’s hand, and I thrust my shoulder forward to bump him off. The Waif nearly stood on her end at that instant, and her acrobatic feat combined with the push flung Leith off his feet and sent him rolling ludicrously along the deck.