Mrs., or Madame Garcia, Antonio and José’s mother. She is cheerful though old, cheerful and active, and not a day more aged-looking than the long-suffering José her son, whom she idolizes.
Parson Grahame comes next, looking resigned and happy. Maud, his dear little daughter, has been dead for years, but he knows she is in a better land. If you were to unwittingly ask him about Maudie, he would simply reply—
“Oh, didn’t you know? God took dear wee Maud home.”
Dr. Parker might have been here. Alas! he is dead too.
Mrs. Stuart is too delicate, or fears the sea; but Phœbe is here, and very happy and pleased she looks.
Poor old plain-faced Norton the fisherman is sitting aft yonder, smoking his not over-aristocratic pipe. Pandoo has just brought him a light, and Pandoo and he have waxed very friendly. At this moment he is telling the handsome Indian that “there be a many changes in this world o’ sin and sorrer, but it’ll all come right up-bye.”
Now comes Antonio and his bride, Sister Leona, sister now no longer.
And last, but not least, surely the youngest, handsomest, and happiest couple ever seen on board ship—Barclay Stuart and Teenie, now all his own; and Parson Grahame married those two couples only this morning.
But the anchor is up, a delightful land breeze fills the sails, and away flies the Zingara on the wings of the wind. The flag is dipped again and again to the cheers of the good folks of Fisherton that crowd the pier and shore to throw blessings, rice, and old shoes on the water.
The blessings, let us hope, will take effect, the sea-gulls eat the rice, and the old shoes will sink.