“Of course,” I said.
“That will be splendid! For, do you know, Clinton, I think you are the very nicest brother I could have picked out. You are just as nice as I dreamed you would be.”
“There!” said I. “You have said that before. How do you mean, that you dreamed about me?”
“So I did. Only it was a dream that came true.”
“You mean that you dreamed of me when you were aboard that boat?”
“Oh, no! it was long before that. It was soon after we left Calcutta that I saw you,” she said, confidently.
“Why, Philly!” I exclaimed. “That’s impossible, you know.”
“But I did dream about you,” she returned, seriously. “I knew that I was in a little boat. I thought I was all alone on the great ocean. And I was frightened, and sick—just as I was frightened and sick when the time came. But you came to me, and told me you would save me, and you held me in your arms just as you did hold me afterward all the way to this ship.”
She was so positive that she had dreamed it all before, that I saw it was no use to gainsay it. And then, why should I contradict her? Perhaps she had had some secret and wonderful assurance that she would be saved from the wreck. I did not understand the clairvoyant part of it, or whatever it might be; so I did not touch upon the subject again.
It was after that that the great gale struck us and the staunch Gullwing was battered continually for a week. We ran almost under bare poles for a time, and fortunately the gale favored us. But we lost our mizzen topmast completely and some of our other rigging was wrecked.