Next day was Sunday. The captain sent word forward, and the instructions reached us aft, that the whole of the ship’s company were to attend Divine service on the poop at ten o’clock. It was again a bright and beautiful day. When I went on deck in the early morning, I was in time to behold a most glorious pink and silver sunrise; our coppered forefoot had cloven the first of the warm parallels, and already the flying-fish were darting from the froth of the curl of the low wave; the ship was heaped with gleaming spaces of canvas to her trucks, and was leaning over to the pressure of the cordial breath of the north-east trade-wind. She was sailing fast; the sea was smooth, and the spitting of the narrow band of passing brine was like the sound of satin torn by the hand; and satin-like was the long gleam of the water, with a few small seabirds swiftly winging along it in chase. The routine, I observed, was the same as on other days. The convict deck-washers, superintended by the captains of deck, helped the watch to wash down as usual; the cooks were admitted past the sentry, and speedily a cloud of black smoke was blowing from the prisoners’ galley chimney. When the decks had been swabbed, the convicts in divisions were turned up to wash themselves, and at eight o’clock they went to breakfast. It was whilst the messmen were standing in a compact row beyond the main-hatch door waiting for their cans of cocoa, that I saw Tom. He was one of the messmen. I found an excuse to pass him thrice, that I might greet him with my eyes and observe him. I saw passion and grief and love in his face when our gaze met, though neither of us durst venture on more than a passing look. It half broke my heart that I should be so close to him and yet unable to speak. Whilst he waited with the rest I could, indeed, have made shift to pass him a fourth time, but the strain was so terrible that I feared myself. I felt a swelling within me as of hysteria, an ungovernable madness to rush to him, to fling my arms about his neck, to hold him to me. So I passed into the cuddy, and a little later the body of prisoners went below and, saving the sentries, the inclosure was empty. After the cuddy breakfast was over, whilst taking some dirty dishes forward, I met Will near the galley. He said, softly: ‘I was on the poop watching you when you walked up and down past Butler to look at him. Old woman, these are risks and you mustn’t run ’m. There are eyes aboard here sharper than that chap’s bayonet.’ ‘I’ll run no risks, and all’s well so far, Will.’ ‘What about that letter you were telling me of? I dread to hear of your attempting to give it to your sweetheart.’