Their stay with us, however, was not to be of as long duration as we had expected, for early next morning we sighted a small brigantine, who, on being hailed, stated that she was bound for Hong Kong. Passages for the officers and their men were soon arranged, and, within an hour of picking her up she had sent a boat, we had bade our naval visitors good-bye, and were standing on our fictitious course again. As soon, however, as they were out of sight the helm was put up and we were making a bee line back to the settlement.
That evening as I was pacing the deck, smoking my cigar and wondering when the time would come for me to say farewell, I heard a light footstep behind me, and next moment Alie came to my side. We paced the deck for a little while, talking commonplaces about the beauty of the night, the speed of her vessel, and the visit of the man-of-war's men; then she drew me to the stern, and said:
"Do you remember your first night on board this boat, when we discussed the sea and the poets who have written of her?"
"It was the night of the first day I ever saw you," I answered. "Is it likely I should have forgotten it?"
"Some men forget very easily," she answered, looking down at the sparkling water. "But I'll do you the justice to say I don't think you are one of that kind."
"And you are right; I am sure I am not. I think if I were lying dead in my grave, my brain would still remember you."
She looked roguishly up into my face, and said:
"That is rather a big assertion for a medical man to make, is it not?"
"Bother medicine," I cried impatiently. "It reminds me of the outer world. And by the same token, Alie, I want to ask you something unpleasant again."
"And that is?"