The lady looked for a little while very earnestly at the captain, with a world of meaning in her beautiful eyes--meaning so eloquent in _desire_ of expression, that it was pathetic to witness the arrest of speech in her gaze and face. She then with grace and dignity motioned round the sea. “It is very wide, and the voyage before us is a long one--I understand that,” interpreted Greaves; and never did man peruse lineaments more speaking or translate glances more radiant and expressive. She then placed the forefinger of her right hand upon her lips to signify silence or dumbness. “Which means,” said Greaves, “that you can’t speak our tongue, and don’t like the prospect, accordingly.” She then took her dress in her hand, putting on a most mournful countenance. “Yaw, yaw,” cried Greaves, with a little irritation, “we have discussed that matter, madam. But there is white duck below--duck for the duck, what d’ye say, Fielding? and there are hussifs in the fok’sle.” I believed that her dumb show was at an end. Not at all. Clasping her hands sparkling with the several rings she wore, and raising them in a posture of supplication to the level of her mouth, she upturned her face to the sky, and with an inimitable expression of entreaty, of piteous prayer rather, insomuch that her eyes seemed to swim and her lips to work, she stood while you could have counted ten. “Sainted and purest of all the Marias, put pity into the heart of this British captain, and cause him to set me ashore, for the sea is wide and the voyage is long; and I am possessed by a dumb devil and cast among heretics; and I have but one gown; and, O Maria and ye saints! candles shall ye have in plenty, mortification will I undergo, prayers by the fathom will I recite, choice gifts will I make to Holy Mother Church, if ye will but soften the heart of the durned, slab-sided skipper who stands opposite me, interpreting my mind. There ye have it, Fielding. That’s what her gestures said, that’s what her eyes looked. But I tell you what--this sort of thing will grow tiresome presently. You must bear a hand and teach her to speak English.” “Dinner’s on the table, master,” said Jimmy, putting his head through the companion way. “Call Yan Bol aft to stand a lookout while we dine, Fielding,” said Greaves, “and give your arm to the lady and bring her below. She don’t like me.” CHAPTER XXI. A FIGHT.