No sooner had Sir Patrick Home left Scotland than his estates were forfeited and given to Lord Seaforth, and although Lady Home went by sea to London, and there for a long time did all possible to obtain from Government an adequate allowance for the support of her family of ten, L150 a year was all that she was able to secure.  Of course Grisell was her companion there, and her companion also when she sailed to Holland to join Sir Patrick.  Of the ten, a little girl, Julian by name, had to be left behind with friends as she was too ill to travel, and when Grisell had safely handed over her mother and brothers and sisters to her father’s care, she returned to Scotland alone, to act as escort to the little sister, “to negotiate business, and to try if she could pick up any money of some that was owing to her father.”  The brave and capable little woman of business, having managed affairs to her satisfaction, secured, for the passage, a nurse for the sister, who was still a weakly invalid.  Moreover, the voyage to Holland, being in those days more than just the affair of a night, a cabin-bed—­the only one in the ship, apparently—­was engaged for Julian, and a good store of provisions laid in.  But when the ship had sailed, Grisell found that the cabin-bed had been separately engaged and paid for by four other ladies, and at once these four began a violent dispute as to which should have it.  “Let them be doing,” said a gentleman, who had to share the cabin with the rest, “you will see how it will end.”

So the disappointed little maid had to arrange a bed on the floor as best she could for herself and her sister, with a bag of books that she was taking to her father for pillow, while two ladies shared the bed and the others lay down where they could find room.  Any place where they could lie flat must have been welcome, for a storm was brewing, and as a cradle the North Sea usually leaves a good deal to be desired.  As they all lay, in fairly sickening discomfort, in the cabin, lit only by an evil-smelling oil-lamp that swayed back and forwards with each roll, the heavy step of the captain was heard coming down the companion way.  Grisell had expected honesty from her fellow-travellers, and her store of provisions was laid out in what she had considered a convenient place.  It did not take the captain long to devour every scrap of what had been meant to last the girls and their maid for days.  His gluttonous meal over, he tramped up to the bed.

“Turn out! turn out!” he said to the women who lay there, and having undressed himself lay down to snore in that five time’s paid for sleeping-place.  It must have been somewhat of a comfort—­if, indeed, comfort was to be found in anything that night—­that the captain did not long enjoy his slumbers.  A fierce gale began to blow, and during the furious storm that never abated for many an hour to come, the captain had to remain, drenched to the skin, on deck, working and directing with all his might, in order