Daph saw all this, if “Passenger” did not, and with her white teeth in full sight she moved round the table, in the position of waiter, which she had assumed to keep her darlings in view, and to have a care that their new friends, in their abundant kindness, did not feed them too freely with sailor’s fare. That was a happy day to the children--that first day on board the “Martha Jane,”--and the captain prophesied that Charlie would “stand the sea like an old salt,” and Louise would be as much at home on it as the “Martha Jane” herself. There had been a fresh breeze all day, but towards evening the wind grew stronger, and Daph would have found it hard to carry even a trifle on that head of hers, which had so steadily borne many a heavy burden. She began also to experience certain strange internal sensations, for which she could not account; but the faithful creature bore up without a complaint, though she staggered to and fro in a way which made the rough sailors laugh merrily at her expense. Poor Daph! Such sufferings as hers could not long be kept secret. Through the live-long night she lay in the anguish of sea-sickness, which can only be appreciated by those who have experienced its miseries. In her ignorance, she supposed herself to have been seized by some fearful malady, which must soon take her life. “Daph would be glad to die, she so awsome sick,” she said to herself, “but den, who will mind de babies? No, no! Daph wont die yet. De great Lord wont let her; Daph knows he wont!” For two days the poor negro wrestled mightily against the horrors of sea-sickness, bearing up with the motive, “Daph must live for de babies!” Meanwhile, Captain Jones had all the charge of his new pets. “Passenger” was quite forgotten, as the stout sailor walked the deck, with Charlie peeping out from under his rough overcoat, and Louise walking at his side, wrapped in the long soft shawl that Daph had stowed away in that wonderful basket. They had strange talks together--that strong man and those prattling children--and they learned much from each other. He told of the wonders of the sea--the great whales and the floating ice-bergs--and the petrel, that the sailor never kills. Many long years, Captain Jones had made the sea his home, and much he knew, which books had never taught him, yet in little more than three short years, Louise had caught a priceless secret, which he had never found in any land. He was familiar with the wonders of nature, but to her the Great Creator, to whom he was a stranger, was as a familiar, trusted friend. The marvels which Captain Jones could tell of the ocean, but increased her wonder at His power, who “made the heavens, the earth, the sea, and all that in them is,” and in her simple way she would “praise the Lord for all his wonderful works.” Charlie little knew of the strong feelings which agitated the breast to which he was clasped, while his little sister lisped of the lessons learned at her mother’s knee.