“You will not be disappointed, my dear,” addressing himself to Mrs. Lyndsay. “The wind has fallen off a bit; and, though the sea is too rough for the small craft, Palmer, the captain of the pilot-boat, has been with me; and, for the consideration of two pounds (forty shillings),—a large sum of money, by-the-bye,—I will try and beat him down to thirty,—he says he will launch the great boat, and man her with twelve stout young fellows, who will take you, bag and baggage, on board the steamer, though the gale were blowing twice as stiff. You have no more to fear in that fine boat, than you have sitting at your ease in that arm-chair. So make up your mind, my dear; for you have no time to lose.” Flora looked anxiously from her husband to her child, and then at the black, pouring sky, and the raging waters. “There is no danger, Flora,” said Lyndsay. “These fine boats can live in almost any sea. But the rain will make it very uncomfortable for you and the child.” “The discomfort will only last a few minutes, Mrs. Lyndsay,” said old Kitson. “Those chaps will put you on board before you can say Jack Robinson.” “It is better to bear a ducking than lose our passage in the _Chieftain_,” said Flora. “There cannot be much to apprehend from the violence of the storm, or twelve men would never risk their lives for the value of forty shillings. Our trunks are all in the boat-house, our servants discharged, and our friends gone; we have no longer a home, and I am impatient to commence our voyage.” “You are right, Flora. Dress yourself and the child, and I will engage the boat immediately.” And away bounded Lyndsay to make their final arrangements, and see the luggage safely stowed away in the pilot-boat. Captain Kitson seated himself at the table, and began discussing a beefsteak with all the earnestness of a hungry man. From time to time, as his appetite began to slacken, he addressed a word of comfort or encouragement to Mrs. Lyndsay, who was busy wrapping up the baby for her perilous voyage. “That’s right, my dear. Take care of the young one; ’tis the most troublesome piece of lumber you have with you. A child and a cat are two things which never ought to come on board a ship. But take courage, my dear. Be like our brave Nelson; never look behind you after entering upon difficulties; it only makes bad worse, and does no manner of good. You will encounter rougher gales than this before you have crossed the Atlantic.” “I hope that we shall not have to wait long for the steamer,” said Flora. “I dread this drenching rain for the poor babe, far more than the stormy sea.” “Wait,” responded the old man, “the steamer will be rattling down in no time; it is within an hour of her usual time. But Mrs. Lyndsay, my dear,”—hastily pushing from him his empty plate, and speaking with his mouth full—“I have one word to say to you in private, before you go.”