again lifting the ship's glass to his eye; the
forecastle was loaded with steerage passengers all staring forward; the
poop too looked full; the very stewards had left the saloon to peer;
the cook had quitted his galley, and the Jacks had "knocked-off," as
they call it, from the sundry jobs on which they were engaged, as
though awaiting the order to bring the main topsail to the mast.

I approached the captain with Grace's hand under my arm.

"She has her answering pennant flying," he exclaimed, letting fall his
glass to accost me, and he called to the second mate to haul down our
signal. "I believe she will receive you, Mr. Barclay. She's a
gentleman's yacht, and a fine boat at that. So much the better. After
the _Carthusian_," he added, with a proud look at his noble ship, "I
dare say you mightn't have found the first thing we fell in with
perfectly agreeable."

"Where do you think she's bound, captain?"

"I should say undoubtedly heading for the English Channel," he answered.

"There should be no difficulty in transferring us, I think," said I,
with a glance at the sea.

"Bless me, no," he answered, "get her close to leeward, and the ship'll
make a breakwater for Mrs. Barclay."

"Captain Parsons, what can I say that will in any measure express my
gratitude to you? May I take it that a letter addressed to you to the
care of the owners of the _Carthusian_ will be sure to reach you on
your return?"

"Oh, yes. But never you mind about that. What I've done has given me
pleasure, and I hope that you'll both live long, and that neither of
you by a single look or word will ever cause the other to regret that
you fell into the hands of Captain Parsons of the good ship
_Carthusian_."

Grace gave him a sweet smile. Now that it seemed we were about to
leave his ship she could gaze at him without alarm. He broke from its
to deliver an order to the second mate, who re-echoed his command in a
loud shout. In a moment a number of sailors came racing aft and fell
to rounding-in, as it is called, upon the main and main-top sailbraces
with loud and hearty songs, which were re-echoed out of the white
hollows aloft and combined with the splashing noise of waters and the
small music of the wind in the rigging into a true ocean concert for
the ear. The machinery of the braces brought the sails on the main to
the wind; the ship's way was almost immediately arrested, and she lay
quietly sinking and rising with a sort of