But how could one come just then? A slight turn of the boat's head was putting Natchez Island close on her larboard bow and, seven miles away, bringing hazily into sight Natchez herself, both on her bluffs and "under-the-hill." Nay, more; abreast the _Votaress_ was another fine boat. The _Westwood_, she was named. Her going was beautiful, yet the _Votaress_ was gradually passing her. The Yazoo pair knew her well. When they made salute toward two men who stood near her forward skylights, one of them returned it. "Why should he be so solemn?" asked the wife. "Why shouldn't he?" laughed Ramsey. "Because he's a mere passenger, on his wedding tour." "Humph!" said Ramsey. "Weddings are solemn things. Is that other man the captain?" she asked the husband. "No, I regret to say, he's only her first clerk." "Why should you regret to say it?" inquired the girl; but the wife, too, had a question: "Do you think there's anything wrong?" "N-no, oh, no." The _Westwood's_ clerk made a sign to Captain Courteney. The captain glanced up to Watson, and the two boats, still at full speed, began to draw sidewise together. But Ramsey's liveliest interest was in the _Westwood's_ crew, who, far below about her capstan, were paying their compliments to the newer, larger, speedier boat in song and refrain with stately wavings and dippings of ragged hats and naked black arms. Now the boats' guards almost touched and their commanders spoke so quietly together that she did not hear their words. But she noted the regretful air with which John Courteney shook his head to the _Westwood's_ clerk and then to the passenger, and the _Westwood_ began again to drop behind. Hugh came near, paused, and glanced around. "Looking for the commodore?" she asked. "I thought you went down with Mrs. Gilmore," he replied, "to rehearse your part in the play." "Commodore's down on the lower deck," she said; "freight deck--with mom-a--and the bishop." Hugh showed astonishment. "The bishop?" "Yes, mom-a made him go." She laughed. "Some of the sick folks down there are Protestants and were threatening to turn Catholic. Is anybody sick aboard the _Westwood_?" "No." "Then where's her captain?" Hugh made no reply but to meet her steady gaze with his own till she asked in a subdued voice: "Cholera?" Hugh nodded. Each knew the other was aware of the song that floated up after them from the boat behind. "What did the bridegroom want?" asked the girl. "Wanted to give us a thousand dollars to take his bride--with him or without him--aboard the _Votaress_." "But when he heard how much worse off we are--" prompted she. "Yes." "But, Mr. Hugh----" "Yes?" "Anyhow, this boat hasn't got that boat's trouble!" "No," said Hugh, and knew they were both thinking of his father. Together they stood hearkening to the last of the _Westwood's_ song: "'Ef you git dah befo' I do-- _O, high-low!_-- Jest tell 'em I'm a-comin' too-- _John's gone to high-low!_'" XXIX