"Ay, I know her. I was helping to lade her till twelve last night."
"Just show her to me. I am in a frightful hurry. She is here—this is the right dock."
"Ay, the Albert and Victoria. The Experiance sailing for Sydney, noon, on the 25th."
"Well, where is she? I will go and look for her by myself."
"You can't, lady, she's gone."
"What—what do you mean? It isn't twelve o'clock. Suzanne, it isn't twelve o'clock."
"No, lady."
The old sailor looked compassionate enough.
"Poor young thing," he soliloquized under his breath, "some one has gone and done her. The Experiance was to sail at noon," he continued, "and she's a bunny tidy ship, too. I was lading her up till midnight; for last night there came an order, and the captain—Captain Jellyby's is his name—he was all flustered and in a taking, and he said we was to finish and lade up, and she was to go out of port sharp at eight this morning. She did, too, sharp to the minute. I seen her weigh anchor. That's her, lady—look out there—level with the horizon—she's a fast going ship and she's making good way. Let me hold you up, lady—now, can you see her now? That's the Experiance."