“If I remember rightly, I gave them to the lady whom I had the honour to see an hour ago.”
“That individual, sir, is no longer here,” was the grave reply of Wyllys; “neither is she to trust her person in the vessel. This young lady and myself, with our attendants, will be the only passengers.”
“I understood it so,” returned Wilder, keeping his thoughtful gaze riveted on the speaking countenance of the deeply interested Gertrude.
“And, now that there is no apprehension of any mistake, may I ask you to repeat the reasons why you think there will be danger in embarking in the ‘Royal Caroline?’”
Wilder started, and even had the grace to colour, as he met the calm and attentive look of Mrs Wyllys’s searching, but placid eye.
“You would not have me repeat, Madam,” he stammered, “what I have already said on the subject?”
“I would not, sir; once will suffice for such an explanation; still am I persuaded you have other reasons for your words.”
“It is exceedingly difficult for a seaman to speak of ships in any other than technical language, which must be the next thing to being unintelligible to one of your sex and condition. You have never been at sea, Madam?”
“Very often, sir.”
“Then may I hope, possibly, to make myself understood. You must be conscious, Madam, that no small part of the safety of a ship depends on the very material point of keeping her right side uppermost sailors call it ‘making her stand up.’ Now I need not say, I am quite sure, to a lady of your intelligence, that, if the ‘Caroline’ fall on her beam there will be imminent hazard to all on board.”