“Mr Newton Forster, one of the mates of the vessel.  Would you like to walk, Miss Revel, or remain where you are?”

“Thank you, I will stay with Mrs Ferguson.”

The gentlemen passengers had as yet but occasionally appeared on deck.  Men generally suffer more from the distressing sickness than women.  As soon, however, as the news had been communicated below that the ladies were on deck, some of the gentlemen immediately repaired to their trunks to make themselves presentable, and then hastened on deck.  The first on deck was the old colonel, who tottered up the hatchway, and by dint of seizing rope after rope, at last succeeded in advancing his lines to within hearing range of Mrs Ferguson, to whom he had been formally introduced.  He commenced by lamenting his unfortunate sufferings, which had prevented him from paying those attentions, ever to him a source of enjoyment and gratification; but he was a martyr—­quite a martyr; never felt any sensation which could be compared to it, except when he was struck in the breast with a spent ball, in the battle of ——­; that their appearance had made him feel revived already; that as the world would be a dark prison without the sun, so would a ship be without the society of ladies; commenced a description of Calcutta, and then—­made a hasty retreat to the lee-gangway.

The young writer next made his appearance, followed by the two boys, who were going out as cadets; the first, with a new pair of grey kid gloves, the others in their uniforms.  The writer descanted long upon his own miseries, without any inquiry or condolement for the sufferings of the ladies.  The cadets said nothing; but stared so much at Isabel Revel, that she dropped her veil.

The ladies had been about a quarter of an hour on deck, when the sun, which had not shown itself for two days, gleamed through the clouds.  Newton, who was officer of the watch, and had been accustomed, when with Mr Berecroft, to work a chronometer, interrupted the captain, who was leaning on the carronade, talking to Mrs Ferguson.

“The sun is out, and the horizon pretty clear, sir:  you may have sights for the chronometers.”

“Yes, indeed,” said the captain, looking up; “be quick, and fetch my sextant.  You’ll excuse me, ladies, but the chronometers must be attended to.”

“In preference to us, Captain Drawlock?—­Fie, for shame!” replied Mrs Ferguson.

“Why, not exactly,” replied the captain, “not exactly; but the fact is, that the sun may go in again.”

“And we can stay out, I presume?” replied Isabel, laughing.  “I think, Mrs Ferguson, we ought to go in too.”

“But, my dear young lady, if the sun goes in, I shall not get a sight!”

“And if we go in, you will not get a sight either,” replied Mrs Ferguson.

“Between the two, sir,” observed Newton, handing Captain Drawlock his sextant, “you stand a chance of losing both.  There’s no time to spare; I’m all ready.”