e-looking female party. Mr. Robinson was
a bachelor, his age I dare say about forty, with handsome whiskers,
and one of those voices that show breeding in a man; ay, and the
humblest ear that hears 'em recognizes them. I didn't take much notice
of _her_, though I reckoned her large black eyes the beautifullest I
had ever beheld in a female countenance. She seemed young--not more
than eight-and-twenty--with what they call a fine figure, though,
speaking for myself, I never had much opinion of small waists. Give
me _bong poine_, as my old master, Sir Arthur Jones, used to say; and
he ought to have known, for he had been studying female beauty for
eighty year, and died, I reckon, of it.

"I considered it to be a case of courting, for she was a lady; there
was no mistaking that; she held her head up like one, and dressed as
real ladies do, expensively but plainly--ay, old Jacob knows; he
didn't go yachting for years for nothing. But it wasn't for me to form
opinions. My berth was an easy one--just a sprawl all day long with a
pipe in my mouth, and a good night's rest to follow; and that was all
it was my duty to think about.

"Well, one afternoon Mr. Robinson comes aboard alone, and says to me,
'Williams, at what hour will the tide serve to-morrow night?'

"'Why, sir,' says I, after thinking, 'there'll be plenty of water at
nine o'clock.'

"'Then,' says he, 'see all ready, Williams, to get away to-morrow at
that hour. We're off to ----,' and he names a Mediterranean port.

"Right, sir,' says I, though wondering a bit to myself, for the season
was pretty well advanced, and I couldn't have guessed, from what I
knew and had heard of him, that he would have pushed so far south.

"Well, at half past eight that evening the deck was hailed by a boat
alongside, and up he comes handing a lady on board, thickly veiled,
and they both went below as if they were in a hurry. Some parcels and
a bit of a bandbox or so were chucked up to us by the watermen, who
then shoved off. There was a nice little off-shore breeze a-blowing,
and soon after nine we were clear of the harbor and sailing quietly
along, the sea smooth and the moon rising red out of a smother of
mist. Mr. Robinson came on deck and looked aloft to see what sail was
made; I was at the tiller, and stepping up to me, he says--

"'What d'yer think of the weather, Williams?'

"'Why,' says I, 'it seems as if it was going to keep fair.'

"'There can't come too much wind for