Someone would discover the loss of the tell-tale compass, which would
naturally confirm that suspicion. Convinced of this I steered more to
the eastward, feeling of the face of the compass again to assure myself
of the direction. I found even this small change an advantage in more
ways than one, as the boat moved steadier, and I was able to spread a
larger amount of canvas. Lashing the tiller, I crept forward and shook
out an additional reef, hauling the ropes taut. By this time the wind
had steadied into a brisk breeze, and the rain had ceased. Crawling
back across the thwarts, I took the jumping tiller again into my hands,
and held her nose to it, seeking every advantage. I had brought back
with me a tin of biscuit from the bow locker, more as an excuse for
opening conversation than from any feeling of hunger.
"It must be pretty close to midnight," I said finally. "Are you
hungry?"
The shapeless form in the oilskins straightened slightly, and I knew
she had turned her face toward me.
"Hungry! Oh, no; I had not thought of that."
"You have been crying?"
"Yes; it is so foolish, but I am so frightened out here in this little
boat. The darkness, and that awful water has got upon my nerves.
You--you must n't scold me.
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