"I will teach you everything that is proper for a young woman to know," he answered.
He took her to his heart and pressed his lips to hers, which was like signing articles: that lip pressure was the seal of their agreement to serve each other loyally, and to eat the food on board without growling.
The first thing they did was to go below. Here was the cabin just as they had left it; there was the chair in which Captain Layard had sat and talked metaphysics, yonder was the locker on which the drugged girl had slept, and they stood on the deck where Hardy had lifted his cannon-ball of a head, whilst his bewildered soul groped slowly into his brains. They went into the captain's cabin and saw the drum and the drumsticks and the little bedstead.
"What a fantasy of the sea!" said Hardy. "It is beyond me. It is like a vision, sensible to perception and unreal to it. Will our story be credited?"
"Who cares?" answered the girl. "Is that the safe, George?"
"Yes, and I'll look for the key by and by. The jewelry's there."
The safe was small and secured on a massive timber shelf, but though small it was large enough to contain the Koh-i-noor, and to hold buried the wealth and jewels of a rajah.
Hardy cast a keen look around him, saw that the table held the necessary machinery of navigation, carefully wound up the chronometers, which had not stopped, then went into his own cabin whilst the girl entered hers. When they presently met they sought for food and found plenty in the pantry; here were ham and tongue, palatable stuff in tins, white biscuits, and pots of jam.
They sat down and ate, and the Newfoundland sat beside them, triumphant in this familiar company of man and woman, and Julia, who loved him, saw that he made a good breakfast.