Before going in search of the cook, she walked a few steps towards the
bridge. At the top of the companion she saw Joey, sitting
disconsolately on his tail, a sure indication that Courtenay was
occupied in depths approachable only by steep iron ladders whither the
dog could not follow.
She whistled softly to her little friend, knowing that Christobal, and
perhaps Mr. Boyle, would be on the bridge, keeping the lookout, and she
was not inclined for talk at the moment. The doctor would have
understood at once that the girl was below par, owing to the strain of
the preceding days, and the lethargic rest which exhaustion had imposed
on her. Yet, there are times when science does not satisfy. . . .
But Joey, who recked naught of philosophy, and to whom the alarms and
excursions of fights on deck came as a touch of mother earth to the
sole of Antaeos--Joey, then, sprang down the stairs, barking joyously,
and leaped into her outstretched arms.
He honored no other person on board, except his master, with such
extravagant friendship, and, as the girl carried him aft to the cook's
galley, she asked herself why the dog had taken such a liking to her.
She blushed a little as she thought: "It may be that I resemble the lady whom Captain Courtenay is going to
marry. I wonder why he did not show us her photograph that day when
Isobel and I visited his cabin and looked at the pictures of his mother
and sister. I should like to see her, but how can I manage it? I
simply dare not tell him I read that scrap of a letter, even by chance."
The dog, apparently, found her an excellent substitute; he licked her
ear contentedly. That tickled her, and she laughed.
"I fear you are a fickle lover, Joey," she said aloud. "But you will
simply be compelled to remain constant to me while we are in this
horrid place, and that may be for the remainder of our lives, dear."
Joey tried to lick her again to show that he didn't care. What could
any reasonable dog want more than fine weather, enough to eat, and the
prospect of an occasional scrimmage?
When Elsie did ultimately climb to the chart-house, the fit of
despondency had fled. Boyle was there, having been carried up in a
deck chair early in the day. He was alone.
"Huh!" he growled pleasantly. "You 're lookin' as bright as a new pin,
Miss Maxwell. Now, if I had been among the pirates, I'd have taken you
with me."
"Do you mean to say that you are actually paying me compliments?" said
she.
"Am I? Huh; didn't mean to. I'm an old married man. But pirates,
especially Spanish ones, are supposed to be very handy with knives and
other fellows' girls."