CHAPTER XXXIX
The day came for our departure. There was no longer anything to detain us on Endeavour Island. The Ghost’s stumpy masts were in place, her crazy sails bent. All my handiwork was strong, none of it beautiful; but I knew that it would work, and I felt myself a man of power as I looked at it.
“I did it! I did it! With my own hands I did it!” I wanted to cry aloud.
But Maud and I had a way of voicing each other’s thoughts, and she said, as we prepared to hoist the mainsail:
“To think, Humphrey, you did it all with your own hands?”
“But there were two other hands,” I answered. “Two small hands, and don’t say that was a phrase, also, of your father.”
She laughed and shook her head, and held her hands up for inspection.
“I can never get them clean again,” she wailed, “n
