young lady!"
here he clapped his thigh, "Well of all--the wrong young lady! Are you
quite sure, sir?"

Captain Jack laughed aloud. But it was with a bitter twist at the
corners of his lips.

"Well I'm----," said poor Curwen. All his importance and
self-satisfaction had left him as suddenly as the starch a soused
collar. He scanned his master's face with almost pathetic anxiety.

"Oh, I don't blame you--you did your part all right. Why, I myself
fell into the same mistake, and we had not much time for finding it
out, had we? The lady you see--the lady--she is the other lady's
sister and she came with a message. And so we carried her off before
we knew where we were--or she either," added Captain Jack as a
mendacious after thought.

"Well I'm----," reiterated Curwen who then rubbed his scrubby,
bristling chin, scratched his poll and finally broke into another
grin--this time of the kind classified as sheepish.

"And what'll be to do now?"

"By the God that made me, I haven't a notion! We must take all the
care of her we can, of course. Serve her her meals in her cabin, as
was arranged, and see that she is attended to, just as the other young
lady would have been you know, only that I think she had better be
served alone, and I shall mess downstairs as usual. And then if we can
leave her at St. Malo, we shall. But it must be in all safety, Curwen,
for it's a terrible responsibility. Happily we have now the time to
think. Meanwhile I have slept like a log and she--I see is astir
before me."

"Lord bless you, sir, she has been up these two hours! Walking the
deck like a sailor, and asking about things and enjoying them like.
Ah, she is a rare lady, that she is! And it is the wrong one--well
this is a go! And I was remarking to Bill Baxter, just now, that it
was just our captain's luck to have found such a regular sailor's
young woman, so I said--begging pardon for the word. And not more than
he is worth, says he, and so said I also. And she the wrong lady after
all! Well, it's a curious thing, sir, nobody could be like to guess it
from her. She's a well-plucked one, with her wound and all. She made
me look at it this morning, when I brought her a cup of coffee and a
bite: 'You're old enough to be my father,' says she, as pretty as can
be, 'so you shall be doctor as well as lady's maid; and, if you've
got a girl of your own, it'll be a story to tell her by the fire at
night, when you're home again,' so she said; an