Jefferson volunteered to explain.
“The children have been rhapsodizing over the beauties of the ocean,” he laughed. With a sly glance at Shirley, he added, “Your niece has been coaching me in metaphysics.”
Shirley shook her finger at him.
“Now Jefferson, if you make fun of me I'll never talk seriously with you again.”
“Wie geht es, meine damen?”
Shirley turned on hearing the guttural salutation. It was Captain Hegermann, the commander of the ship, a big florid Saxon with great bushy golden whiskers and a basso voice like Edouard de Reszké. He was imposing in his smart uniform and gold braid and his manner had the self-reliant, authoritative air usual in men who have great responsibilities and are accustomed to command. He was taking his afternoon stroll and had stopped to chat with his lady passengers. He had already passed Mrs. Blake a dozen times and not noticed her, but now her pretty niece was with her, which altered the situation. He talked to the aunt and looked at Shirley, much to the annoyance of Jefferson, who muttered things under his breath.
“When shall we be in, captain?” asked Mrs. Blake anxiously, forgetting that this was one of the questions which according to ship etiquette must never be asked of the officers.
But as long as he could ignore Mrs. Blake and gaze at Shirley Capt. Hegermann did not mind. He answered amiably:
“At the rate we are going, we ought to sight Fire Island sometime to-morrow evening. If we do, that will get us to our dock about 11 o'clock Friday morning, I fancy.” Then addressing Shirley direct he said:
“And you, fraulein, I hope you won't be glad the voyage is over?”