"Oh, we have been shipwrecked—we are now accustomed to the privations of the sea—anything that our teeth can meet in will do for us, captain!" I exclaimed, laughing. "When do you hope to reach Southampton?"
"Monday afternoon, sir."
"A little more than two days," I exclaimed. "You must be a pretty fast boat."
He smiled and said, "What might be the port you want to get at, sir? Southampton may be too high up for you."
"Our destination was Penzance," said I; "but any port that is in England will do."
"Oh," said he, "there ought to be no difficulty in putting you ashore at Penzance." He then asked us if we would like to step below, and forthwith conducted us into a large, roomy, elegantly, indeed sumptuously, furnished cabin, as breezy as a drawing-room, and aromatic with the smell of plantains or bananas hung up somewhere near, though out of sight. The panels were hand-painted pictures, the upper deck or ceiling was finely embellished, and there was a gilt centrepiece from which depended a small but costly chandelier or candelabra that projected some ten or twelve oil lamps. The carpet was a thick velvet pile, and there were curtains and mirrors as in a drawing-room; indeed, I never could have imagined such an interior on board a sea-going structure, and though it was all very grand and princely to look at, I could not but regard the whole as an example of wanton, senseless extravagance.
"This should suit you, Grace!" said I.
"Is it not heavenly?" she cried.
The captain stood by with a pleased countenance, observing us.
"I don't know if I'm right in calling you sir?" he exclaimed; "I didn't rightly catch your name."