“God afton, Captain,” said Claudius.

“It is rather late to say good evening, Doctor,” replied the sailor.

“Why, what time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“Well, I shall turn in.”

“If you will take my advice,” said the captain, “you won’t leave any odds and ends lying about to-night.  We shall have a dance before morning.”

“Think so?” said Claudius indifferently.

“Why, Doctor, where are your eyes?  You are a right Svensk sailor when you are awake.  You have smelled the foam in Skager Rak as well as I.”

“Many a time,” replied the other, and looked to windward.  It was true; the wind had backed to the north-east, and there was an angry little cross sea beginning to run over the long ocean swell.  There was a straight black belt below the stars, and a short, quick splashing, dashing, and breaking of white crests through the night, while the rising breeze sang in the weather rigging.

Claudius turned away and went below.  He took the captain’s advice, and secured his traps and went to bed.  But he could not sleep, and he said over and over to himself that he loved her, that he was glad he had told her so, and that he would stand by the result of his night’s work, through all time,—­ay, and beyond time.

CHAPTER VIII.

Lady Victoria was not afraid of the sea.  No indeed, and if her brother would go with her she would like nothing better.  And Miss Skeat, too, would she like to come?  Such a pity poor Margaret had a headache.  She had not even come to breakfast.

Yes, Miss Skeat would come, and the boatswain would provide them both with tarpaulins and sou’-westers, and they would go on deck for a few minutes.  But Mr. Barker was so sorry he had a touch of neuralgia, and besides he knew that Claudius was on deck and would be of more use to the ladies than he could ever be.  Mr. Barker had no idea of getting wet, and the sudden headache of the Countess, combined with the absence of Claudius from her side, interested him.  He meant to stay below and watch the events of the morning.  Piloted by the Duke, the strong English girl and the wiry old Scotch lady made their way up the companion, not without difficulty, for the skipper’s prediction was already fulfilled, and the Streak was ploughing her way through all sorts of weather at once.

The deck was slippery and sloppy, and the sharp spray was blowing itself in jets round every available corner.  The sky was of an even lead colour, but it was hard to tell at first whether it was raining or not.  The Duke’s face gleamed like a wet red apple in the wind and water as he helped his sister to the leeward and anchored her among the shrouds.

“Hullo, Claudius, you seem to like this!” he sang out, spying the tall Swede near the gangway.  Claudius came towards them, holding on by the pins and cleats and benches.  He looked so white that Lady Victoria was frightened.