‘Then Miss C.,’ said he, rising slowly, and smiling gravely as he pronounced the name, ‘you will consider yourself the guest of the ship _Deal Castle_ for the present. By-and-by your memory will return to you. We shall then learn all about you, and _then_, whatever steps I take must certainly result in restoring you to your friends; whereas to tranship you now---- But that is settled,’ he added, with a dignified motion of the hand. He pulled out his watch, held it to the porthole, and then bidding the stewardess see that I wanted for nothing, gave me a bow and went out. Mrs. Richards produced a box of matches from her pocket, and lighted a bracket lamp. ‘What do you think of Captain Ladmore?’ she asked. ‘He is the soul of goodness, Mrs. Richards.’ ‘He is, indeed. Who would suppose him to be a sea-captain? Sea-captains are thought to be a very rough body of men. Before I come upon the water as a stewardess I used to imagine all sea-captains as persons with red faces wrinkled like walnut-shells, and boozy eyes. They all had bandy legs, and used bad language. Since then I have met many sea-captains, and some of them are as I used to think they all were; but some are otherwise, and Captain Ladmore is one of them. On his return home two or three voyages ago he found his wife and only daughter dead. They had died while he was away. The blow was dreadful. He cannot forget it, they say. It changed his nature--it made him a sad, grave man, and thus he will always be. Well, now I must go and attend to my work.’ I opened the door, and she passed out bearing the tray.