He helped her with the heavy jack-boots and handed her the rain-stained slouch hat which she put on, and stood a complete man ready for the deck—­that is, as complete as could be evolved from her utter femininity.

When Brandon looked her over, all hope went out of him.  It seemed that every change of dress only added to her bewitching beauty by showing it in a new phase.

“It will never do; there is no disguising you.  What is it that despite everything shows so unmistakably feminine?  What shall we do?  I have it; you shall remain here under the pretense of illness until we are well at sea, and then I will tell the captain all.  It is too bad; and yet I would not have you one whit less a woman for all the world.  A man loves a woman who is so thoroughly womanly that nothing can hide it.”

Mary was pleased at his flattery, but disappointed at the failure in herself.  She had thought that surely these garments would make a man of her in which the keenest eye could not detect a flaw.

They were discussing the matter when a knock came at the door with the cry, “All hands on deck for inspection.”  Inspection!  Jesu!  Mary would not safely endure it a minute.  Brandon left her at once and went to the captain.

“My lord is ill, and begs to be excused from deck inspection,” he said.

Bradhurst, a surly old half pirate of the saltiest pattern, answered:  “Ill?  Then he had better go ashore as soon as possible.  I will refund his money.  We cannot make a hospital out of the ship.  If his lordship is too ill to stand inspection, see that he goes ashore at once.”

This last was addressed to one of the ship’s officers, who answered with the usual “Aye, aye, sir,” and started for Mary’s cabin.

That was worse than ever; and Brandon quickly said he would have his lordship up at once.  He then returned to Mary, and after buckling on her sword and belt they went on deck and climbed up the poop ladder to take their places with those entitled to stand aft.

Brandon has often told me since that it was as much as he could do to keep back the tears when he saw Mary’s wonderful effort to appear manly.  It was both comical and pathetic.  She was a princess to whom all the world bowed down, yet that did not help her here.  After all she was only a girl, timid and fearful, following at Brandon’s heels; frightened lest she should get out of arm’s reach of him among those rough men, and longing with all her heart to take his hand for moral as well as physical support.  It must have been both laughable and pathetic in the extreme.  That miserable sword persisted in tripping her, and the jack-boots, so much too large, evinced an alarming tendency to slip off with every step.  How insane we all were not to have foreseen this from the very beginning.  It must have been a unique figure she presented climbing up the steps at Brandon’s heels, jack-boots and all.  So unique was it that the sailors working in the ship’s waist stopped their tasks to stare in wonderment, and the gentlemen on the poop made no effort to hide their amusement.  Old Bradhurst stepped up to her.