With a light wind and a flowing sheet the _Pandora_, now more than a fortnight out, moved slowly through the water. Astern was the island of Madeira, standing like a huge rock in the sea, and various crafts on the deep blue waters looked, in the distance, like children’s toys. Not a cloud was to be seen. The sky was as blue as the sea--the air mild and pure. The sun had become so oppressive that an awning was rigged over the after part of the vessel, and the passengers, having quite recovered their sea legs, were reclining on chairs and couches under its welcome shade. The occupiers of the second cabin were resting on the quarter-deck, sheltered by the cutters, which were kept in the chocks on the after-skids. Everything seemed peaceful and quiet aboard. A merry laugh from the girls, or the plaintive bleating of the sheep being the only sounds that broke the silence. It was Vernon Blythe’s watch on deck, and his men were employed aloft setting up the topmast and topgallant rigging. There was but little work for the officer to do. Occasionally his services were required to serve out marline, amberline, and different stores, but that did not occur often, and left him far too much time for thought and speculation. Why did not Iris Hetherley appear amongst the other passengers on the quarter-deck? His wistful eye kept roving there every second minute in the hope of seeing her, but she did not come. What could be the reason of her enforced seclusion? Vernon had attempted to see her twenty times in the last fortnight without success. For a week she had kept her berth, and when she left it, she seemed never to be in the cabin when the second officer entered it. Maggie had answered his numerous inquiries respecting her mistress more than once, and always blushed and stammered so much over the operation, that Jack suspected she had been cautioned not to enlighten him. Which indeed was the case; for Iris had confided the fact of her former acquaintanceship with him to her humble friend, and had prayed the girl to warn her whenever he entered the cabin, so that she might escape to the shelter of her berth. Maggie had remonstrated with her ‘_pretty_’ on the absurdity of the proceeding. ‘You _must_ meet the gentleman sooner or later, you know, mistress, so what’s the good of dodging him. And if he was a friend of yours, why _should_ you dodge him? You say he don’t know that villain up in the saloon, and if he did, he wouldn’t betray you if you asked him not. Is it likely? And maybe he’ll help you, and be good company on this long voyage, and stand your friend on the other side, where you’ll want one, poor lamb, God knows! Now, mistress dear, do be wise, and meet the gentleman with a handshake next time he comes in, and then you’ll feel as you have _one_ person at least aboard, who takes an interest in you.’