‘Oh, my darling!’ he exclaimed rapturously, as he threw his arms around her, ‘I have conquered at last. You need not trouble yourself to give me any other answer.’ But Iris twisted herself out of his embrace, and turned her pale face towards him. ‘Don’t! Pray, pray, don’t!’ she said earnestly. ‘I--I--cannot bear it! I appreciate all you have said to me at its full value, and I shall never forget it. But there it must end! For I have deceived you, Mr Blythe! I am not a widow! I--I--am _still married_.’ As this announcement left her lips, Vernon Blythe felt as if he had been struck right across the face. He turned as white as a sheet, looked her fixedly in the eyes for a moment, then dropping her hand, he turned on his heel, and walked silently away. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XI. SHIPPING SEAS. A strong westerly wind coursed the Southern ocean, and gigantic green waves rolled on all sides of the _Pandora_, sometimes rushing up against her with pugilistic violence, and depositing tons of water on her deck. White clouds drifted across the heavens with tremendous speed, upon a background of cerulean blue. A grey bank, however, that stretched from aft to the starboard beam, betokened the advent of hail, or snow, whilst the sun struggled at times to pour his feeble rays upon the surface of the deep. The _Pandora_ was running before the gale. Her mainsails and crossjack were stowed, to permit the foresail to have full play, which bellied out to such an extent that it pressed tightly against the sheep-skin chafing-gear on the forestay. The fore-topmast staysail and inner jib, flapping idly to and fro, might have had the gaskets round them, for all the good that they were doing, and the smaller sails on the mizen were furled, to keep the main royal and topgallant sail full, lest she should take in too much water aft. The heavy swells made the ship roll violently, often dipping her main bumpkins into the water, and agitating the compass card to such an extent that the man at the wheel could not depend on its accuracy, for ascertaining the true position of the vessel’s head. At mid-day the sun had risen behind a squall, and Captain Robarts, after waiting patiently for twenty minutes, with sextant in hand, carried his instrument below again, and went to luncheon, not, however, without a growl at the obstructing cloud which prevented his getting the meridian altitude. The hour for lunch was gladly welcomed by the passengers that day, for their appetites had been sharpened by the keen wind, and punctual to the moment, all were seated in their accustomed places. Vernon Blythe, arrayed in his long silk oilskin coat and ‘sou’-wester,’ having relieved Mr Coffin, was in charge of the vessel, and the watch were huddled together round the mainmast, standing by to take his orders.