The woman, flattered at being addressed by so handsome a young man, approvingly pressed the piece of money in her hand. “He’s as pretty as a picture. I guess the capting’s bride must remind him of some one he knows.”
CHAPTER VII.
WE ARE PROGRESSING.
Early the next morning Nina, refreshed and blooming from her night’s sleep, made her way to the deck. She frowned, however, at the bridge, the centre of her husband’s authority, and, in order to get as far as possible from it, drew a camp-stool to a secluded corner by the wheel-house.
The sea was very rough, and the Merrimac was rolling and pitching in the huge swell, until the girl, in her inexperience, feared that the steamer would forget herself during one of her side-to-side plunges, and turn quite over.
She fixed her eyes on a white sail in the distant horizon. Just as a high, over-topping wave hid it from her view, she heard a heavy footstep behind her.
Involuntarily she clasped the rail more tightly with her bare hands. Yes, it was his grave voice, asking some question of an officer who stood beside the man at the wheel.
She stared steadfastly at the stormy petrels circling in graceful evolutions against the gray, dull sky, till some one came behind her, and she heard a formal and decorous, “Good morning, Miss Danvers. Will you be kind enough to take a stroll with me?”
With a silent shrug of her shoulders, she kept her attention riveted on the petrels.