Sophie, however, was not so diligent as her cousin, and did not object to come to the side of the ship, and watch the strange creatures of the deep as they swam or floated by. When night came on, and the stars shone forth from the clear sky, each reflected in the deep as in a mirror, she stood with me while I told her their names. I was scarcely aware how time had passed by, when I heard Monsieur de Villereine’s voice summoning his niece, and telling her that it was time for her to retire to her cabin.
I was never addicted to whistling for a wind, and certainly should not have done so on that occasion. A breeze, however, came at last, and the Ellen gliding swiftly over the calm sea, we came in sight of that most beautiful and picturesque island of Saint Lucia.
Two lofty heights of a sugar-loaf form, shooting up from the sea, and feathered from base to summit with the richest foliage, were the first objects which attracted our attention. Beyond these rose a range of mountains, running north and south through the island, and broken into the most fantastic shapes. As we sailed along the shore, having the mountains still as the background, here and there appeared the most lovely little caves and bays, fringed with luxuriant cane-fields, and enlivened by the neatly laid-out mansions of the planters; while numerous fishing and passage boats, with their long light masts and lateen sails, were gliding over the calm waters.
“I used to tell you, Laurel, that our island was one of the most beautiful in the world—don’t you think so?” said Henri, as, while standing near his sister and cousin, I was watching the shore, and every now and then addressing them.
“Indeed it is. I am not surprised that you are so fond of it, and, could I leave the sea, I should be content to spend my days there,” I answered, speaking as I felt.
“Oh, do,” exclaimed Henri. “Come and turn planter; we can give you plenty of occupation, and my health as been so bad lately, that I should be glad if you could take my place.”
“I am afraid that, having lived so little on shore, I should make but a poor farmer,” I answered, laughing.
Sophie looked up at me, and remarked: “The difficulties to be overcome are not very great, I suspect, and I am sure you would soon learn all that is necessary.”
“The proposal is indeed a tempting one,” I answered; “and yet I love the sea, and should be sorry to abandon it.”
“Oh, you can take an occasional trip to England,” observed Henri. “Have a ship of your own, and just make a voyage when you get tired of the shore.”