“That’s what I tell mother. But you know what she is, Jack. And-and…”

Her voice died away as rainwater vanishes in droughty earth. Her face was tautened by unease of mind. Mrs Wilton echoed her son’s remark about there being plenty of time still for theDo-me to reach port before the need for worry. Wilton crossed the room and stood close to the girl.

“Well?” he asked softly.

Into the wide blue eyes entered an expression of entreaty. Her right hand grasped his left arm.

“I haven’t felt too good all afternoon, Jack. Now I feel that there’s something wrong with Bill and young Garroway and Mr Ericson. You know how it is with me and Bill.”

“But what could be wrong?” argued Wilton. “The sea all day has been as calm as a park lake. It’s not yet fully dark, and even if it was as black as the ace of spades Bill could navigate theDo-me across the bar and up to the jetty.”

“Still…”

The blue eyes now were compelling. The small nostrils were slightly distended, and the hand which grasped his arm was now clasped by her other hand.

“I feel-I know-I feel that something’s happened to theDo-me,” she said, slowly and softly. A strange power seemed to emanate from her which he felt. “There hasn’t been a breath of wind all day, and Alf Remmings said it’s been hazy, too. There’s no wind now. I’ve just been up to the headland. The sea looks like new-cut lead. Supposing theDo-me ’s engine has broken down-the sail would be useless. She might be current-driven to the coast rocks.”

Wilton said, gazing into the fearful eyes regarding him pleadingly:

“There may be something in what you say. I don’t think it’s likely, though. Bill knows his engine, from sump to tank. Tell you what! If theDo-me isn’t home when we come out of the pictures I’ll get Burns and Remmings to go out and patrol. TheMarlin not being ready for sea, I could go with one or other. But-still-by that time theDo-me will be home. Hang it! Bill’s one of the best launchmen here.”