“We shall put into harbour somewhere as soon as the wind lulls. We cannot venture yet, though we do steam; and then we can telegraph. I am longing to relieve Miss Prescott. We can take you home all the way. We were on our way into Rock Quay to take up Mysie Merrifield if she can go. It really was a wonderful and most merciful thing that we made you out just as it was getting light before running you down. My father saw you first, and old Griggs would hardly believe it, but then we heard Mr. Delrio’s hail! But it was a terrible business getting you up the ship’s side.” “I did not know anything about it. It was so dreadful in the lightning. And my new hat was blown away. And what is become of all my clothes?” “Mrs. Griggs has them, and is drying them. We will lend you a hat to land in.” “Oh, when we do! I wish I had never got into that boat, but Hubert Delrio did persuade me so.” “And he is an old friend?” “Yes, he is come to paint the roof of St. Kenelm’s Church, and we want to be attentive to him because my eldest sister would be sure to be cross and keep him at a distance, being only that sort of wall painter, you know, and his father a drawing master.” “My father is very much pleased with him, and thinks him a very superior young man. They have been sitting on deck together, talking as much as they could about architecture and Italy, with their breath all blown away every moment. There! You are really getting better! If you would eat something and come on deck you would be well! I will call the sea gnat, and see what we have.” It was all very wonderful to Vera; and she began to be interested and to forget her troubles. A slice of very salt ham was brought to her and a glass of something, she did not know what, and asked if she could have some tea. “You could have tea if you like, but there’s no milk. You see, we ought to have been in at Rock Quay yesterday evening, and our stores were not adapted to hold out any longer! We shall have another curious experience, though Mrs. Griggs says it won’t be so bad as once when they were off the coast of Ireland, and when they put into a bay with a queer name, all Kill and Bally, they could get nothing but potatoes and goat’s milk.” “Who is Mrs. Griggs?” “She is wife to the sailing master; and, like the Norsemen, her home is on the wave, at least in the yacht, for she always lives in it, and her cabin is quite a sight; she is great fun, she cooks when there is anything to cook, and is stewardess and everything. Francie and I knew a maid would be a vain encumbrance, so we are taking care of ourselves, and, if you will let me, I will try and set your hair to rights.”