"The ship is sailing very fast," said Julia.
"A little over five knots, perhaps," answered Hardy. "We wants legs, my love. Blow, blow, my sweet breeze." And he sang to himself whilst he got the box on to its side and secured it to the grating.
"Now for your bed, Sailor, and then we'll go to supper."
He reflected, and remembered that there was straw in the fore-peak for the use of the old sow that had been and was gone—recollect that he had been mate of this ship, and knew exactly where to look for what he wanted. He dropped into the fore-peak, which was like descending into a hell of smells and the mutter of troubled water, and reappeared with his arms full of straw, transforming Julia's wistful face into beaming pleasure, for his briefest disappearance struck a sort of horror to her heart.
Thus was the Newfoundland housed, and before making up his own bed in the hen-coop the sweethearts went to supper.
The girl had been standing some time at the wheel. It was proper she should be relieved, so Hardy grasped the spokes whilst Julia went below, followed by the dog, to fetch something to eat. She arrived with wine, biscuits, jam, and tinned meats. You will remember that she had been an under-stewardess, and was used to waiting upon people. But that was not all: she had nursed old ladies, had for a very lean wage indeed washed, dressed, and walked out with children; in fact, she long afterward told Hardy that, always having emigration in her mind, she had worked at a laundry for some weeks. In point of service, therefore, she was well equipped for life, and Hardy saw in her the helpful woman, the wise and devoted wife, beautiful in figure and, now that she was happy, most engaging in face.
The three of the ship's company ate their supper, and two of them talked and watched the sunset. The further north you go the greater is the glory of the sun's departure; yet yonder was a magnificent scene of golden pavilions hung with tapestries of deep blue ether; the flight of the eastern cloud was like incense pouring from the evening star, unrisen or invisible: the vapour fled on the wings of the wind to enrich the light in the west by duplication of scarlet splendour, and the ship blew steadily along controlled by the hand of Hardy, who was sometimes fed by Julia.
All about was the soft, sweet noise of creaming seas; the brig astern had vanished into airy nothing, and the York sailed a kingdom of her own.
"Will there be a moon?" asked Julia.