‘Oh, not by the neck,’ said I.
‘What did you do?’
‘I rescued her. I seized her by the waist and bore her gloriously to a hencoop.’
‘Did you put your arms round her waist?’ said he, staring at me.
‘I did,’ I exclaimed.
He looked a little gloomy. Then brightening in a fitful kind of way, he said: ‘Well, I suppose you had to do it—a case of pure necessity, Dugdale?’
I closed one eye and smiled at him.
‘She’s a very fine woman,’ said he, gazing at me gloomily again. ‘I trust you have not been indiscreet enough to tell her that I am engaged to be married?’
‘Oh now, my dear Colledge, don’t let us trifle—don’t let us trifle!’ said I. ‘Scarcely have you escaped the risk of being boarded by pirates—the chance of being beheaded by some giant picaroon—of being struck dead by lightning—of foundering in this ship in the small-hours, when round with circus speed sweep your thoughts to the ladies again, and your mouth is filled with impassioned questions. Where’s your gratitude for these hairbreadth escapes?’ and being by this time in trim for my morning bath, I bolted out of the cabin, laughing loudly, and deaf to his shout of, ‘I say, though, did you tell her that I was engaged?’
The ocean was a very grand sight. The wind still blew fresh, but as the ship was running with it, it seemed to come without much weight. The sea was flowing in long tall surges of an amazing richness and brilliance of blue, and far and near their foaming heads flashed out to the sunshine in a splendour of whiteness that contrasted most gloriously with the long dark slopes of unbroken water. From sea-line to sea-line the sky was overspread with clouds of majestic bulk and grandeur of swelling form, as white in parts as the foam which broke under them, and with many rainbows in their skirts, and a tender violet shading in the centre of them, that gave them as they soared above the horizon the look of brushing the very heads of the coursing seas. The Indiaman was thundering through it under whole topsails and topgallant-sails, rolling with the stateliness of a line-of-battle ship as she went, with a rhythmically recurring stoop of her ponderous bows till the water boiled to the line of her forecastle rail, and her deck forward looked to lie as flat as a spoon in the dazzling smother.