‘Did he talk with you?’
‘Yes; he told me that a shock might give me back my memory.’
‘What did the man mean?’
‘He said he believed if I were to fall overboard from the height of the ship, that when I was taken out of the water the shock would be found to have restored my memory.’
She burst into a loud laugh. ‘He is a truly comical gentleman,’ she exclaimed, ‘though he never intends to be funny, for he is always in earnest. It is said of him that ever since he was second officer, now getting on for five years, he has offered marriage in every voyage he has made to one of the lady-passengers. Our head steward has been shipmate with him three voyages, and on every occasion he has offered marriage. He is always rejected. A shock indeed!’ she exclaimed, growing suddenly very grave—‘what an idea to put into your head! You might go and throw yourself overboard in the belief that the act would cure you of loss of memory. I will tell the doctor to give Mr. Harris a hint not to talk too much. Now make a good breakfast, and by-and-by I will call and take you to see Mrs. and Miss Lee.’
I sat at my solitary repast, which was bountiful indeed, and reflected upon what Mrs. Richards had said. No! it would not help me to confine myself to my cabin. By mingling, by conversing, by hearing others discourse, by gazing at them, observing their dress, their manners, their faces, some gleam might come back to touch the dark folds of memory. In the steerage they were breakfasting somewhat noisily. There was a great clatter of crockery, and a sound of the voices of men and women raised as though in good spirits, and the tones of children eagerly asking to be helped. The light upon the sea was of a dazzling blue; through the porthole I could see the small blue billows curling into froth as they ran with the ship, and the ship herself was going along as smoothly as a sleigh, saving a scarcely perceptible long-drawn rising and falling, regular as the respiration of a sleeping breast.
I was looking through the porthole, when the door was thumped and opened, and the ship’s doctor stepped in.
‘Well,’ said he, in his strong North accent, knitting his brow and staring into my face with his sharp eyes, ‘what are ye able to recollect this morning, ma’m?’
‘My memory is good for everything that has happened since I first opened my eyes on board the French vessel,’ I answered.
‘Humph!’ He felt my pulse, examined my brow, dressed the injury afresh, and said that I should be able to do without a bandage in a day or two.