disabled; two of the others were sick and bedridden. Captain Evan stood
on the main hatchway and reviewed the situation, and in his manner of
expressing himself there remained no trace whatever of the suave autocrat
of the cabins. In less than an hour his voyage had been converted into an
utter and ignominious failure.

The journey from the Heads to the river mouth in the wake of the tug-boat
Platypus, slow and toil some, set Jim in an itch of impatience. He was
longing to feel land under his feet once more, and was leaning over the
side, his awkwardly-packed canvas bag of belongings at his feet, watching
the line of Liardit Beach, with its few dingy buildings standing back
from the sea, apprehensive lest this, after all, should prove to be
Melbourne, his brave city of refuge, when Lucy Woodrow approached him to
say farewell.

'They tell me we are very near our journey's end,' she said. 'I wish to
ask you a favour before you go.'

She looked strong and confident, and he was grateful there were to be no
tears, having anticipated something like a scene. She had prepared to
land, too, and wore a dark dress he had not seen before, and a quaint
little hat that became her well. He thought her beautiful. The idea of
parting with her hurt now, and his pulse stirred impatiently. The
admiration in his eyes caused a flush to relieve the pale olive of her
cheeks.

'I'll do anything you ask,' he said,

'It is a very little thing. This is Mrs. Macdougal's address. I want you
to promise to write to me.'