“I have seen her, sir.  I have seen all I want to see of her.  She appears to hev got the idea into her head that she ought to hev been a man, and some of them have got so far in that direction that you are forced to say that in their dress and looks there isn’t much difference.  However, I hev heard very knowing men declare they always found the old woman in all her glory under the new one, and I wouldn’t wonder if that was the case.  What do you think, Mr. Hatton?”

“It may be, Captain, that it is the ‘new man’ that is wanted, and not the ‘new woman.’  I think most men are satisfied with the old woman.  I am sure I am,” and his eyes filled with light, and he silently blessed the fair woman who came into his memory ere he added, “but then, I have not a great ancestor’s name to consider.  The Hattons never gave anything in the way of land to England.”

“They hev done a deal for Yorkshire, sir.”

“That was their duty, and their pleasure and profit.  Yorkshire men are kinsmen everywhere.  If I met one in Singapore, or Timbuctoo, I would say ‘Yorkshire?’ and hold out my hand to him.”

“Well, sir, I’ve seen Yorkshire men I wouldn’t offer my hand to; I hev that, and sorry I am to say it!  I never was in Singapore harbor, and I must acknowledge I never saw or heard tell of Timbuctoo harbor.”

John laughed pleasantly.  “Timbuctoo is in Central Africa.  It was just an illustration.”

“Illustration!  You might have illustrated with a true harbor, sir—­for instance, New York.”

“You are right.  I ought to have done so.”

“Well, sir, it’s hard to illustrate and stick to truth.  There is the boatswain’s whistle!  I must go and see what’s up.  Pentland Firth is ever restless and nobody minds that, but she gets into sudden passions which need close watching, and I wouldn’t wonder if there was not now signs of a Pentland tantrum.”

The Captain’s supposition was correct.  In a few minutes the ship was enveloped in a livid creeping mist, and he heard the Captain shout, “All hands stand by to reef!” Reef they did, but Pentland’s temper was rapidly rising, and in a few minutes there was an impetuous shout for the storm jib, “Quick,” and down came a blast from the north, and with a rip and a roar the yacht leaped her full length.  If her canvas had been spread, she would have gone to the bottom; but under bare masts she came quickly and beautifully to her bearings, shook herself like a gull, and sped southward.

All night they were beating about in a fierce wind and heavy sea; and Hatton, lying awake, listened to the mysterious hungering voice of the waves, till he was strangely sad and lonely.  And there was no Captain to talk with, though he could hear his hoarse, strong voice above the roar of wind and waters.  For the sea was rising like the gable of a house, but the yacht was in no trouble; she had held her own in far worse seas.  In the morning the sky was of snaky tints of yellow and gray, but the wind had settled and the waves were flatting; but John saw bits of trailing wreckage floating about their black depths, making the Firth look savagely haggard.