But she saw, without observing them. The ships, too, swept past unobserved by her; everything, even the objects immediately around her upon the deck of the steamer. Her eyes only turned toward one point—the stairway—where people were ascending, and where her father had gone down.
And looking that way, she sat silent, though not abstracted. She was apparently watching for some one to come up.
“Miss Blanche,” said the mulatto, observing this, “you no need look, you fader not back for long time yet. Doan you ’member in dat Wes’ Indy steamer how much trouble dem baggages be? It take de governor great while sort ’em.”
“I’m not looking for father,” responded the child, still keeping her eyes sternward.
“Who den? You ben tinkin’ ’bout somebody.”
“Yes, Sabby, I’m thinking of him. I want to see how he looks when near. Surely he will come up here?”
“Him! Who you ’peak’ ’bout, Miss Blanche? De cap’in ob the ship?”
“Captain of the ship! Oh, no, no! That’s the captain up there. Papa told me so. Who cares to look at an old fellow like that?”
While speaking, she had pointed to Skipper Shannon, seen pacing upon the “bridge.”
“Den who you mean?” asked the perplexed Sabina.