"I am willing," answered the mate, and as Julia disappeared he exclaimed, "Is she your wife, sir?"
"No; she is my sweetheart; she is the daughter of a retired commander in our Royal Navy, and if God suffers us to reach home she will be my wife."
"She is a very fine young woman," said the mate.
"She has a splendid spirit," answered Hardy, "and she is a very fine young woman as you say."
Julia knew the ways of the under-stewardess, and was quickly on deck again with a tray of glasses, cold water, and a bottle of brandy. She mixed the spirits, each man saying "when," and took a little drop herself, just enough to be sincere with in her good wishes. The Yankee mate did not seem to greatly trouble himself that the figure on the barque—undoubtedly the skipper—should keep the telescope bearing upon them. With one hand on the spoke Hardy, with the other hand, held aloft the glass of grog, and said:
"Here's to your beautiful barque, and to the noble country from which she hails!"
He drank and so did Julia, and the mate before drinking said:
"Here's to the Red Flag of Old England, and to the fine girls who steer ships under it!"
Julia laughed merrily, and thought the mate better looking now than she had at first believed. He was a little sallow, a little long-faced, and on the whole what the Americans call slab-sided; but he had the eyes of an honest man and the looks of a good sailor, and if his name were inscribed on the dome of St. Paul's nothing better could be said of it.