The man who pushed the other was dressed in a monkey-jacket with brass buttons and a naval cap. He was clearly one of the ship’s officers, but it was not surprising that I should be meeting him now for the first time. He thrust his face into my hood, and then backed a step and exclaimed, ‘Who are you?’ then immediately added, ‘Oh! of course. You’re the person that was taken out of the French brig. Come away from the wheel, will you, ma’m? Here’s an Irishman that believes you a ghost.’
The other muttered in his throat. I walked some paces away, and the officer accompanied me.
‘How is it that you’re not in your bed?’ said he.
‘I have been sleeping all day,’ I answered, ‘and have come up to breathe the air.’
‘We do not allow females to wander about the ship of a night,’ said he. ‘However, you cannot be supposed to know the rules.’ I saw him by the moonlight eye me strenuously and earnestly. ‘That’s a big bandage you have on, ma’m. I hope you are not much hurt?’
‘I was found lying injured and unconscious in a boat by the Frenchmen.’
‘And they tell me you have no memory.’
‘I can remember nothing,’ I answered.
‘What is that?’ cried he, pointing.
‘It is the moon,’ said I.