A Hero for Leanda

boiling up linseed oil and putting a dressing on the galvanized steel wire of the standing rigging.
    At dusk he took star sights. It was Kastella, now, and not Leanda, who held the stop watch while he used the sextant. When the sights were taken he started to explain the principle by which the position of the ship was calculated but Kastella cut him short and said it was time they changed over. He was obviously much less interested in the calculations than in the little penciled crosses that were once again creeping across the track chart. Conway could see him, back in the safety of the saloon, studying the chart carefully. It showed that in the past twenty-four hours they had made good forty-nine miles.

    Soon after dusk the wind started to die away. Conway sat on for a while, using the sails as long as he could. He was steering now by the light of a hurricane lamp, since the dial of the hand-bearing compass w T as not illuminated. Leanda was in the cockpit, too. Kastella had sent her out while he prepared the evening meal. Her face looked impassive in the glow of the lamp. Conway wished he knew what she was thinking, what she was planning. She was altogether too quiet for comfort. Once or twice he tried to jolly her into talk, but he had no success.
    Slowly the old doldrum calm settled over the sea again. Presently Conway went forward and lowered the sagging sails. “I’m going to use the motor, Kastella,” he called down. “There’s no wind.” Kastella shouted an acknowledgment. Conway started the engine and returned to the tiller. He glanced at the patent log and opened the throttle. Leanda retreated to the coach roof, away from the engine noise. A quarter of an hour passed. Conway looked at the log again. Suddenly he frowned. He picked up the hurricane lamp and held it close, so that he could examine the log line. It seemed to be rotating quite normally. He continued to watch the dial for a moment. Then he cut the engine.
    “Kastella!” he called.
    The cabin door opened and Kastella stuck his head out warily. The lamp light gleamed on the gun barrel. “Something wrong?” he asked.
    “Was the patent log working properly when you left the tiller?”
    “As far as I know, yes.”
    “Well, it isn’t now—the indicator isn’t moving... Conway glanced sharply up at the coach roof. “Have you been fooling with it, Leanda?”
    “No, I haven’t,” she said. “How could I, when you were there all the time?”
    “I wasn’t here when I was taking the sails down.”
    “Well, I didn’t touch it.”
    Kastella advanced a step, and stopped. He looked as though he thought the whole thing might be a trick to get him out into the dark. “What are you going to do, Conway ?”
    “Find out what the trouble is, if I can. I expect I can fix it.” He wound in the log line, got his tools from the locker under his feet, and unshipped the instrument. “I’ll have to take it inside,” he said. “I’ll need more light.”
    “All right,” Kastella said. “But just move slowly, will you!” He stepped to the side of the cockpit and Conway went below with the log and the tools. Kastella watched him through the door, trying to keep one eye on Leanda at the same time. For a while, Conway busied himself with a screwdriver. Then there came a sound of hammering. Kastella said, “Have you found out what’s wrong?”
    “Yes, one of the small cogs has sheared. I’m trying to burr the spindle, but I don’t think it’s going to work. Like to look?”
    Kastella hesitated. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said.
    There was more hammering. Presently Conway came out with the log in his hand. “No, it’s no good,” he said. “I’ll have to try and solder it in the morning.”
    Kastella said, “How important is it?”
    “The log? Well, it’s essential for dead reckoning, of course, but in these latitudes we ought to be able to rely on pretty regular sights, so we’ll probably manage whatever happens. It’s a nuisance, though.”
    “Could Leanda have done it?”
    Conway thoughtfully regarded the silent figure on the coach roof. “If she’d suddenly heaved hard on the line, that might have done it. Or the cog could just have sheared itself. I guess she’s entitled to the benefit of the doubt— this time!”
    Leanda said nothing.
    Conway put the log carefully away in the cockpit locker and started the engine again. Kastella went below and finished his supper. Presently Leanda went in, too.

    Conway ran