Boats were now constantly plying to and from the shore, conveying passengers and their luggage from the ship to the pier. The Captain, who had recognised a countryman in Lyndsay, insisted on the voyagers taking breakfast with him before they left the vessel. Mrs. Lyndsay accepted the offer with such hearty good-will, that the Captain laughed and rubbed his hands in the excess of hospitable satisfaction, as he called to his steward to place a small table under an awning upon the deck, and serve the breakfast there. “You will enjoy it much more in the fresh air, Mrs. Lyndsay,” he said, “after your severe illness, than in the close air.” Flora was delighted with the arrangement, and set the Captain down as a man of taste, as by this means he had provided for her a double feast—the beautiful scenery which on every side met her gaze, and an excellent breakfast, served in the balmy morning air. The rugged grace with which the gallant tar presided at what might be termed his own private table, infused a cheerful spirit into those around him, and never was a meal more heartily enjoyed by our emigrants. James Hawke, who had been confined during the whole voyage to his berth, now rejoined his friends, and ate of the savoury things before him in such downright earnest, that the Captain declared that it was a pleasure to watch the lad handle his knife and fork. “When a fellow has been starving for eight and forty hours, it is not a trifle that can satisfy his hunger,” said Jim, making a vigorous onslaught upon a leg of Scotch mutton. “Oh! I never was so hungry in my life!” “Not even during those two disastrous days last week, which we spent starving at sea,” said Flora. “Ah, don’t name them,” said the boy, with an air of intense disgust. “Those days were attended with such _qualms_ of conscience that I have banished them from the log of life altogether. Oh, those dreadful days!” “Why, Jim, you make a worse sailor than I expected,” said Flora; “how shall we get you alive to Canada?” “Oh, never fear,” said the lad, gaily; “I have cast all those horrible reminiscences into the sea. I was very ill, but ’tis all over now, and I feel as light as a feather; you will see that I shall be quite myself again, directly we lose sight of the British shores.”