she was on deck—­which, notwithstanding its abominable smell of oil, seemed to her the fairest and most delightful place that her eyes had ever rested on—­and being almost hugged by Mrs. Thomas, a pleasant-looking woman of about thirty, the daughter of a Suffolk farmer who had emigrated to the States.  And then, of course, she had to tell her story all over again; after which she was led off to the cabin occupied by the captain and his wife (and which thenceforth was occupied by Augusta, Mrs. Thomas, and little Dick), the captain shaking down where he could.  And here, for the first time for nearly a week, she was able to wash and dress herself properly.  And oh, the luxury of it!  Nobody knows what the delights of clean linen really mean till he or she has had to dispense with it under circumstances of privation; nor have they the slightest idea of what a difference to one’s well-being and comfort is made by the possession or non-possession of an article so common as a comb.  Whilst Augusta was still combing out her hair with sighs of delight, Mrs. Thomas knocked at the door and was admitted.

“My!  Miss; what beautiful hair you have, now that it is combed out!” she said in admiration; “why, whatever is that upon your shoulders?”

Then Augusta had to tell the tale of the tattooing, which by-the-way, it struck her, it was wise to do so, seeing that she thus secured a witness to the fact, that she was already tattooed on leaving Kerguelen Land, and that the operation had been of such recent infliction that the flesh was still inflamed with it.  This was the more necessary as the tattooing was undated.

Mrs. Thomas listened to the story with her mouth open, lost between admiration of Augusta’s courage, and regret that her shoulders should have been ruined in that fashion.

“Well, the least that he” (alluding to Eustace) “can do is to marry you after you have spoilt yourself in that fashion for his benefit,” said the practical Mrs. Thomas.

“Nonsense!  Mrs. Thomas,” said Augusta, blushing till the tattoo marks on her shoulders looked like blue lines in a sea of crimson, and stamping her foot with such energy that her hostess jumped.

There was no reason why she should give an innocent remark such a warm reception; but then, as the reader will no doubt have observed, the reluctance that some young women show to talking of the possibility of their marriage to the man they happen to have set their hearts on, is only equalled by the alacrity with which they marry him when the time comes.

Having set Dick and Augusta down to a breakfast of porridge and coffee, which both of them thought delicious, though the fare was really rather coarse, Mrs. Thomas, being unable to restrain her curiosity, rowed off to the land to see the huts and also Mr. Meeson’s remains, which, though not a pleasant sight, were undoubtedly an interesting one.  With her, too, went most of the crew, bent upon the same errand, and also on obtaining water, of which the Harpoon was short.