There are nights when the joy of living will not let one sleep. Do I not
know them?
Ferrier held a little chat with the girls before the scattered party
finally broke up, and Marion Dearsley pleased him mightily by saying,
"You were quite right about the pleasure-room. Only wait till we've
begun our work, and we shall make that dreadful Mr. Blair ashamed of
himself."
"What's this? Scandal and tittle-tattle begun on board? I shall exert my
authority as admiral."
"I knew you were behind me, and that is why I reproved you, sir. We
think the same about the matter, and so does Lena."
Then Ferrier and Blair and Tom talked until the air of the small hours
drove them below, and they saw the yacht skimming among the quiet fleet.
There was enough wind to move the trawls, but the lonely procession did
not travel as on that tremendous night when Lewis first learnt what a
regular hustler was like.
All the days that followed went by pleasantly enough, though Ferrier
could not help chafing. He was constantly busy with lancet, bandages,
splints; he kept a diary of his cases, and after he had cruised among
the fleet for three weeks he came to the conclusion that, if the average
of injuries and ailments were the same all the year round, every man in
the fleet must be under treatment at least _three times a year_. It
sounds queer, but I can back it with facts--definite cases.
November opened finely, and the weather, except for sharp breezes in the
chill of the early morning, left it possible to visit vessel after
vessel daily.
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