the crowd of busy
dock-men and idly lounging spectators. He came straight to the big, fat
man, who greeted him jovially and loudly, and they passed side by side
on to the vessel.

Ida drew a long breath and passed her hand over her brow. It was
absurd, of course, it was a trick of the imagination, of a wearied and
overstrained brain--but the tall figure in the blue serge--ah, how like
it was to that of Stafford!

It disappeared with that of the big man into the vessel, and, with a
sigh, she was coming away when she saw the two men coming along the
deck and mount to the quarter. The fat man was talking and laughing,
but the man in the blue serge was grave and silent, as if he was lost
in thought and not listening.

Suddenly, as she paused, the younger, slimmer figure turned in her
direction and uttered a cry, a cry almost of terror. Was she demented?
Had her longing, her aching longing for a sight of him called up this
vision of Stafford? Unless she were out of her mind, the victim of a
strange hallucination, it was he himself who stood there, his face,
pale and haggard, turned towards her.

"Stafford!" she cried, unconsciously, and her hand gripped the iron
rail in front of her.

As if he had heard her--though it was impossible that her voice could
reach him through the shouts of the sailors, the lowing and bleating of
the cattle--he raised his head and looked in her direction. Their eyes
met and were enchained for a moment, which seemed an eternity; then the
blood flew to his face, leaving it the next moment paler than before.
He swung round to the fat man by his side and clutched his arm.

"Wait! Stop the vessel! I want to go ashore!" he said, hoarsely.

Mr. Joffler stared at him, then laughed.

"Hold on, sir!" he said, not unsympathetically. "Hold on! Took queer
like! Lor' bless you, I know how the feelin' is! It catches at you
right in the middle of the waistcoat. It's the thought of the land
going back from you--we're moving, we're well away. Here, take a sip of
this! You'll get over it in a brace o' shakes."

He thrust a flask into Stafford's hand, but Stafford put it away from
him.

"Let me go ashore! I'll join you later," he said, breathlessly.

Mr. Joffler caught his arm as he was about to jump for the quay.

"Steady, steady, sir!" he admonished, soothingly. "We can't stop--and
you'd break your neck trying to jump it! And all for a fancy, too, I'd
stake my life! Hearten up, man, hearten up! You'