nothing much, but it was well that it held to the Eider. But she is
strong and good, your little ship, and--Heaven!--she had need be so.'
He chuckled, and shook his head at Davies as at a wayward child.

This is all the conversation that I need record. For my part I merely
waited for its end, determined on my course, which was to know the
truth once and for all, and make an end of these distracting
mystifications. Davies plied his friend with coffee, and kept up the
talk gallantly; but affectionate as he was, his manner plainly showed
that he wanted to be alone with me.

The gist of the little skipper's talk was a parental warning that,
though we were well enough here in the 'Ost-See', it was time for
little boats to be looking for winter quarters. That he himself was
going by the Kiel Canal to Hamburg to spend a cosy winter as a decent
citizen at his warm fireside, and that we should follow his example.
He ended with an invitation to us to visit him on the Johannes, and
with suave farewells disappeared into the fog. Davies saw him into
his boat, returned without wasting a moment, and sat down on the sofa
opposite me.

'What did he mean?' I asked.

'I'll tell you,' said Davies, 'I'll tell you the whole thing. As far
as you're concerned it's partly a confession. Last night I had made
up my mind to say nothing, but when Bartels turned up I knew it must
all come out. It's been fearfully on my mind, and perhaps you'll be
able to help me. But it's for you to decide.'

'Fire away!' I said.