Not that he was by any means a coward.

But this cooped-up fighting on an unknown element in a thing of wood that might at any moment founder under his feet into the depths of ocean was disturbing to one who could be brave enough ashore.
Fortunately Miss Bishop did not appear to be in desperate need of the poor comfort he was in case to offer.

Certainly she, too, was pale, and her hazel eyes may have looked a little larger than usual.

But she had herself well in hand.

Half sitting, half leaning on the Captain's table, she preserved her courage sufficiently to seek to calm the octoroon waiting-woman who was grovelling at her feet in a state of terror.
And then the cabin-door flew open, and Don Miguel himself, tall, sunburned, and aquiline of face, strode in.