“You may well say that with your own purty mouth, for it’s yourself that knows that same, Cornelius O’Donovan, for wasn’t it yourself that made the first trip in her, and isn’t Captain Costigan a blood relation of your own, and sure a smarter boy than him that has the handling of her isn’t to be found between this and Bantry Bay.”

“It is her fourth trip to the Cape of Good Hope,” resumed the first speaker, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and preparing to refill it.  Just then a lady, dressed in the height of the prevailing fashion, advanced, and of one of the party enquired the name of the ship, and the port to which she was bound.

“The ‘Kaffir Chief,’ outward bound for the Cape of Good Hope,” was the reply of the waterman who had been addressed.  “Shall I put you on board, my lady?”

“Not at this moment,—­but when does she sail?”

“She will up anchor and top her boom at sunset,” answered another of the bystanders.

“They are lowering a boat,” said the old tar, who had first spoken, who was now taking a squint at her through a small pocket telescope; “it is the skipper coming ashore for his papers, mails, and perhaps to jack up some stray passengers.”

“You would oblige me by telling the Captain that a lady wishes to speak to him as soon as he lands, and then see if you can manage to drink my health at yonder little public house,” and Mrs. Fraudhurst here held out a crown piece to the old seaman, who gladly accepted the offered coin.  “What did you say the Captain’s name was?” It was immediately given.  “Then be good enough to tell Captain Costigan that he will find me waiting for him beneath those trees yonder,” she said, as she turned and walked in the direction indicated.

“Pretty spoken woman that; devilish good looting, too; what can she want with old Castigan?” remarked one of the party.

“Missed her passage in the last ship, perhaps, and wants to know if there be any room in the ‘Kaffir Chief,’” replied another of the bystanders, “Go over at once to the ‘Jolly Sailor’; I will be with you as soon as I deliver the lady’s message, and then we will drink her health,” said the old salt who had received the lady’s bounty.

“Captain Costigan, of the ‘Kaffir Chief,’ I believe,” said Mrs. Fraudhurst as she advanced from under the trees, from whence she had been watching his approach.

“The same at your service madam,” was the reply of the polite seaman, as he lifted his glazed hat and bowed to the person who addressed him.

“I have, unfortunately, lost my passage in the ‘Eastern Monarch,’ which sailed some days since from London, and am anxious to return to the Cape with as little delay as possible.  I noticed in the newspaper that your vessel was bound to that port,—­am I too late, or have you room for another?” The Captain eyed her for a moment, and apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, replied: 

“I have but few passengers, and there is a first-class berth vacant, with excellent accommodation.  You will I trust take a sailor’s word for that, as the time is short, and I sail at sunset.”