loaded tray, and he wondered at the ease of her movements, for the sloop
was plunging viciously.

"I've brought you some breakfast. You have been up all night."

Vane laughed.

"As I can take only one hand from the helm, you will have to cut up the
bread and canned stuff for me. Draw out that box and sit down beneath the
coaming, if you mean to stay."

She did as he told her. The well was about four feet long, and the bottom
of it about half that distance below the level of the deck. As a result
of this, she sat close at his feet, while he balanced himself on the
coaming, gripping the tiller. He noticed that she had brought out an
oilskin jacket with her.

"Hadn't you better put this on first? There's a good deal of
spray," she said.

Vane struggled into the jacket with some difficulty, and she smiled as
she handed him up a slice of bread and canned meat.

"I suppose you can manage only one piece at a time," she laughed.

"Thank you. That's about as much as you could expect one to be capable
of, even allowing for the bushman's appetite. I'm a little surprised to
see you looking so fresh."

"Oh, I used to go out with the mackerel boats at home--we lived at the