"Mr. Marvel," she called to him, "have you seen my maid?"
Then it came upon him that the woman to whom he had clung when the ship struck was the gypsy-maid who had kept herself so reserved, and he said, "Yes my lady; do you want her?"
All the officers called the captain's wife "my lady," and she was proud of the title.
"Yes," she answered; "I wish you could bring her to me, poor girl; she is friendless and unhappy, poor child!"
"Has she no friends at home, my lady?" Joshua could not help asking.
"None, I believe."
The word "home" reached little Emma Pigeon's ears, and as she nestled in her mother's arms, the child cried, "Mother, are we going home?"
"Yes, yes, my dear," sobbed Mrs. Pigeon; "try to go to sleep, there's a darling." And she rocked the child, and sang a little song about birds and angels.
Joshua, steadying himself as he walked cautiously to where Minnie was standing, wondered to himself whether it was fancy that had made the gypsy-maid's voice sound so familiar to him; a sea washing over the deck, drenched him to the skin, and as he stood upright and shook the water from his clothes, the memories that were stirred within him brought to him a picture of the dear old kitchen at Stepney, with himself half-naked, barefooted, and with the water streaming from him, standing at the door. The vision may have occupied but a moment, but the picture was complete; father, mother, Ellen, Dan and the birds, the Old Sailor, all were there. But where was Minnie? Why, by his side, with short curly hair and brown gypsy-face. "Am I mad?" he exclaimed, as he dashed the waters from his eyes. But when he reached the spot where Minnie stood, and she clasped his hand and said, "Thank God, you are safe!" his amazement grew.
"I cannot see your face," he whispered, with his arm round her, for the better protection of both; "but your voice is strangely familiar to me. Do I know you?"