No other word was spoken. They landed in silence. In silence, and somewhat weakly, the negro pulled the dory high upon the beach. The four passengers stood for a moment upon the hot, white sands, moved toward one another, before they separated, by a blind sense of human fellowship. Even Remane found himself touching his hat. Dr. Frank asked Dr. Dare if he could serve her in any way; but she thanked him, and, holding out her firm, white hand, said, “Good-bye.”
This was, perhaps, the first moment when the consciousness of her sex had made itself oppressive to her since she ventured upon this undertaking. She would have minded presenting herself to the Relief Committee of Calhoun, accompanied by gentlemen upon whom she had no claim. She walked on alone, in her gray dress and white straw hat, with her luggage in her own sufficient hand.
The reticent passenger had fallen behind with the negro boatman, with whom he walked slowly, closing the line.
After a few moments, he advanced and hesitatingly joined the lady, beginning to say:
“May I ask you—”
“Ah,” interrupted Dr. Dare, cordially, “it is you.”
“Will you tell me, madam, the best way of going to work to offer myself as a fever nurse in this place? I want the best way. I want real work.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, nodding; “I knew you would do it.”
“I came from the North for this purpose, but I meant to go on to Savannah.”