he supposed Hugh Dalton himself, who made an absurd grimace and
told her to "let her go!"

It was always a delightful experience for Blythe to stand on the
bridge and watch the ship's officers at their wonderful work of
guiding the great sea-monster across the pathless deep. Here was the
brain of the ship, as Mr. Grey had once pointed out, and to-day, when
a sailor suddenly appeared above the gangway and, touching his hat,
received a curt order,--"That is one of the nerves of the vessel," her
companion said. "It carries the message of the brain to the furthest
parts of the body."

"And I suppose the eyes are up there," Blythe returned, glancing at
the "crow's nest," half-way up the great forward mast, where the two
lookouts were keeping their steady watch.

"Yes," he rejoined, "that must be why they always have a pair of
them,--so as to get a proper focus. _Nicht wahr, Herr Capitaen?_"

And the little fiction was explained to the Captain, who grew more
genial than ever under the stimulus of such agreeable conversation.

"_Ja wohl!_" he agreed, heartily; "_Ja wohl!_"--which was really quite
an outburst of eloquence for Captain Seemann.

"If I couldn't be captain," Blythe announced, "I think I should choose
to be lookout."

"How is dat?" the Captain inquired.

"It must be the best place of all, away up above everything and
everybody."

"And you would like to go up dare?"

"Of course I should!"

"And you would not be afraid?"

"Not I!"

Upon which the Captain, in high good-humour, declared, "I belief
you!"

After that he fell to speaking German with Mr. Grey, and Blythe moved
to the end of the bridge, and stood looking down upon the steerage
passengers, where they were disporting themselves in the sun on the
lower deck.

They were a motley crew, and she never tired of watching them, as they
sat about in picturesque groups, singing or playing games, or lay
stretched on the deck, fast asleep.

Somewhat apart from the others was a woman with a little girl whom
Blythe had not before observed. The child lay on a bright shawl, her
head against the woman's knee, her dark Italian eyes gazing straight
up into the luminous blue of the sky. There was a curiously high-bred
look in the pale features, young and unformed as they were, and Blythe
wondered how such a child as that came to belong to the stout,
middle-aged woman who did not herself seem altogether out of place in
the rough steerage.

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