ght back to the _Eastern Star_, and
that there was a doctor aboard of her, so that there was nothing which I
could do in the matter. None the less, when I thought of his thirst, his
burning hands, his heavy eye, his tripping speech, and lastly, of that
leprous forehead, I carried with me to bed an unpleasant memory of my
visitor and his visit.

At eleven o'clock next day I was at the docks, but the _Eastern Star_
had already moved down the river, and was nearly at Gravesend. To
Gravesend I went by train, but only to see her topmasts far off, with a
plume of smoke from a tug in front of her. I would hear no more of my
friend until I rejoined him at Falmouth. When I got back to my offices,
a telegram was awaiting me from Mrs. Vansittart, asking me to meet her;
and next evening found us both at the Royal Hotel, Falmouth, where we
were to wait for the _Eastern Star_. Ten days passed, and there came no
news of her.

They were ten days which I am not likely to forget. On the very day that
the _Eastern Star_ had cleared from the Thames, a furious easterly gale
had sprung up, and blew on from day to day for the greater part of a
week without the sign of a lull. Such a screaming, raving, long-drawn
storm has never been known on the southern coast. From our hotel windows
the sea view was all banked in haze, with a little rain-swept
half-circle under our very eyes, churned and lashed into one tossing
stretch of foam. So heavy was the wind upon the waves that little sea
could rise, for the crest of each billow was torn shrieking from it, and
lashed broadcast over the bay. Clouds, wind, sea, all were rushing to
the west, and there, looking down at this mad jumble of elements, I
waited on day after day, my sole companion a white, silent woman, with
terror in her eyes, her forehead pressed ever against the window, her
gaze from early morning to the fall of night fixed upon that wall of
grey haze through which the loom of a vessel might come. She said
nothing, but that face of hers was one long wail of fear.

On the fifth day I took counsel with an old seaman.

I should have preferred to have done so alone, but she saw me speak with
him, and was at our side in an instant, with parted lips and a prayer in
her eyes.

"Seven days out from London," said he, "and five in the gale. Well, the
Channel's swept clear by this wind. There's three things for it. She may
have popped into port on the French side. That's like enough."

"No, no;