"Very, very, very," Philip replied, dryly. "I wish my goodness and my thoughtfulness together had gone as far as keeping you and me safe in New York, instead of taking the Old Province."
"But—then—then," said Gerald, eagerly, "we couldn't have any such story to tell people for the rest of our lives—if we get through this part of it all right. I guess we will. I'm sure we will. Philip"—he suddenly changed his tone—"what was that quarrel, just before we put off last night, between some man—a gentleman, I think—and the captain? Don't you remember? He said his son was with us. You spoke to Mr. Eversham, too."
"It was a mistake," Philip quickly responded. "I—I happened to know it, and Captain Widgins didn't want to lose an instant. So he put a stop to the man's tongue."
The afternoon glided away in much the same way as the morning. After their rations had been apportioned and eaten Gerald slept heavily. No succoring vessel, no glimpses of the sun—fog and the sea still curtaining them around. Philip took account of their provisions. There were two boxes of biscuit, but
