“Think so?” said Dutch; “but look, who is this coming on board?”
“Poor John!” said the captain, with a sigh. “Poor boy, he’s in a sad way.”
“But he’s very young, Mr Studwick, and with the fine weather he may amend.”
“He’s beginning to be out of hope, Pugh, and so is poor Bessy. The doctor says he must have a sea voyage into some warmer climate—not that he promises health, but prolonged life.”
“Indeed!” said Dutch, starting, as he thought of the Cuban’s proposal, and the probability of Captain Studwick having charge of the vessel if the trip was made, but not feeling at liberty to say much; and, the boat from the shore touching the side, he held his peace.
A minute later a fine, handsome, but rather masculine girl—whose clear eyes sparkled as they lit on Dutch Pugh, and then were turned sharply away—stepped on deck, holding out her hand directly after to assist an invalid to pass the gangway, which he did, panting slightly, and then pausing to cough.
He was evidently enough the girl’s brother, for with his delicate looks and hectic flush he looked strangely effeminate, and in height and stature the pair were wonderfully alike.
“I don’t think it was wise of you to come out, John,” said the captain, kindly; “it’s a cold, thick day.”
“It’s so dull at home,” said the young man, “and I must have change. There, I’m well wrapped up, father; and Bessy takes no end of care of me.”
He gave the girl a tender and affectionate look as he spoke; and she smiled most pleasantly.