Britomarte and Judith went into their stateroom to inspect it and lay aside the small parcels that they had brought from the house in their hands. And then Britomarte asked Justin to attend them up on deck that they might watch their island as long as it should continue in sight. They went up and stood in the stern of the ship, leaning over the taffrail, and looking upon the island, until the _Xyphias_ began to heave and turn, and then, as the wind filled her canvas, to sail away from the open sea. They watched the lonely isle as it gradually receded from their sight, until palm trees, rocks and caverns were mingled in one undistinguishable maze of color—they watched it until it dropped lower and lower down toward the horizon—until its outline became confused with the boundaries of sky and sea—and then they turned away. Britomarte drew her veil to hide her fast-falling tears. When she lifted it again there was nothing around her but the lonely sea and sky. The second day of their voyage was a pleasanter one than the first, principally because the captain, having discovered the temperate habits of his passengers, did not insist upon their making five meals a day. They were steering for Cape Town, where the captain hoped to anchor by the end of that current week. “We may meet a homeward-bound vessel there,” he said; “if so, we will put you on board of her.” “It is you who are now anxious to get rid of us, captain,” said Miss Conyers, archly. And the jolly captain put on the air of a very much injured man, and vowed that Miss Conyers did him great wrong. The ship was constantly on the lookout for rebel privateers, and kept a man at the masthead day and night, relieving him every two hours. But night followed day, and day succeeded night, and still no sail of any sort was to be seen on all the lonely sea. Nevertheless, this was one of the happiest periods that our three friends ever passed. The weather was charming, the sky clear, the sea calm, the wind light, and the ship flew on over the waters at the rate of ten knots an hour. The ship’s captain and officers were all extremely pleasant companions, and unaffectedly glad to have these guests along with them to break the monotony of their sea life. During the continuance of the fine weather, the three passengers spent every day on deck and every evening in the captain’s cabin. Usually the captain, the chaplain, Justin and Britomarte formed a party, and played a rubber or two of whist. Sometimes, to vary the evening’s pastime, Miss Conyers would exercise her talent for dramatic reading, and on these latter occasions, all the officers that could be spared from the deck would be invited into the captain’s cabin to receive their share of the entertainment. Sometimes, also, Miss Conyers sang for her friends. And this singing was perhaps the greatest treat she could give them. A woman’s sweet voice caroling their favorite songs on the blue water was a novelty and a delight indeed.