“What makes it go? It rushes through the water; it trembles, I feel it trembling beneath my feet; it makes a noise.”
“Those are the engines.”
“The engines? Are they alive?”
“Alive? Yes, while Mr. Rudd and his friends keep feeding them they’re alive. Come and have a look at them.”
“No, I dare not. I’m afraid.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. This is a steamer. The engines drive it along. Don’t you know what a steamer is? Haven’t you ever heard of one?”
She shook her head. I didn’t know what to make of her. Her ignorance was something beyond my experience. Presently she was off on a fresh tack.
“Is England far?”
“Pretty well. If we’ve luck we shall get there in about a month.”
“A month?—four weeks?” I nodded. “I cannot live—four weeks—upon the sea!”
She gave what seemed to me to be a gasp of horror.
“Oh, yes, you can. You’ll get to love it before you’ve done.”
“Love it! Love the sea! No one ever loves the sea.”
“Don’t they? That’s where you’re wrong. I do, for one.”
“My lord!”
All in a second down she flopped upon the deck. I was never so flummoxed in my life. I couldn’t think what was wrong.
“Miss Batters! What is wrong?”
She turned her lovely face up to me—still on her knees.
“Are you the lord of the sea?”
“The lord of the sea! For goodness sake get up.
