The yacht was a large one, of perhaps three hundred tons; she was also a good sea boat, and, what was better still, a fast one. By nightfall we had left the Isle of Wight behind us, and brought Swanage almost abeam. Then we stood further out into the Channel and in the gathering darkness lost sight of land altogether. At seven o'clock we dined together in the saloon—the skipper, an old shellback whom Walworth had picked up, sitting down with us. At first he seemed a little surprised at Alie's sudden convalescence, but when I informed him that it was nothing but nerves, he accepted the explanation and said no more.
After the meal was over we left the rather stuffy cabin and went on deck. It was a glorious night. In the west a young moon was dropping on to the horizon, the sea was as smooth as a mill pond, and the air just cool enough to make exercise pleasant. Leaving Walworth and Janet to fight the battle of our escape over and over again on the port side of the deck, we paced the starboard, only to find ourselves aft at our favourite spot, the taffrail.
"George, dear," said Alie softly, when we had been standing there a few moments. "What a lot has happened since we last stood like this, looking out across the sea."
"Yes, darling; a great deal has indeed occurred to us both," I answered. Then, after a little pause, "Alie, do you know if you had not escaped to-day I should never have been able to forgive myself, for remember it was I who was the means of bringing you home."
"You must not say that!"
"But I must say it; it is true."
"Then I will forgive you on one condition! Will you make a bargain with me?"
"What is it?"
"That—that——" Here a little fit of modesty overcame her. "That we put into Madeira and you marry me there."
"Alie, darling, do you mean it?" I cried, delighted beyond all measure at the proposal.