He left the tavern immediately, and I remained for some time longer watching the girl come and go about the room with her easy grace and soft manner. Suddenly her attractive face filled me with a sort of half fear. A fortune teller had once foretold that I should meet my wife in some such place as this. What if this girl were—! Bah! I should not let such a thing as that get between me and my hunt for Ruth. You cannot appreciate the force with which this recollection took hold of me unless you remember the new conviction, a sort of presentiment that I should at last find Ruth. I always profess great disregard for superstition, but in my heart of hearts I am more or less affected by it. For this reason I got up hastily to go out, meaning to escape from the attractive presence of the pathetic looking maiden. As I stopped at the bar to settle my score I was again impressed by the fineness of the girl’s features and could not suppress my curiosity.
“Yours is a strange face to see here,” I said while she was counting out my change.
“No stranger than yours,” she answered. “You and Captain Donaldson are the only gentlemen who have been here to-night[to-night].” She heaved a sigh. “I wish they came oftener.”
“You are going across the water with him, I believe.”
“Did you hear?” she asked in a low, earnest tone. “Please do not speak of it aloud. My master would treat me ill if he knew I was going to leave him.”
“Never fear,” I said, turning to go. “God be with you.”
“Pardon me,” she said as if to call me back. And then, “Oh, pardon me again. I made a mistake.”
I left the tavern wondering what the last exclamation meant, for she had dropped her eyes when I turned round to look at her again, and her face assumed a look of disappointment. Yet I was glad to be free of the place, for I still feared that she might come between me and Ruth. For the moment I quite forgot that we should be together throughout the long voyage.
The next morning I left my lodgings early and threaded the badly paved streets that led to the harbor. The ships were headed close up against the shore and I walked beneath their high bows that projected over my head in a row like the half of an arched passage. Before long I came to the Royal Lion. Captain Donaldson was busy directing the movements of his crew, who were engaged with crows and ropes in stowing away the last portions of the ship’s cargo. When he saw me, he called to his mate to take his place, and kindly offered to explore the ship with me himself. It was a staunch brig, for the most part fitted out with new canvas and fresh rigging. What struck my soldier eye immediately, and what gave the Royal Lion its best claim as a safe conveyance for passengers, was its preparation for military[military] defense. A goodly number of large brass cannons were mounted upon the deck, and Captain Donaldson assured me that his magazine was well stocked with small arms and ammunition.
An ocean voyage at the end of the seventeenth century was a dangerous undertaking. The sea swarmed with pirates. Many a ship returned to port battered up with cannon shots and its decks reeky with blood stains. Other ships never came back at all, and it was as common to attribute their loss to the attacks of the buccaneers as to the furious tropic storms.