‘It’s lucky,’ said Tom, coldly. He looked at the mate and burst out fiercely: ‘Get sentenced as an innocent man to the hulks, and all the gratitude you’ll be capable of afterward shall fill the skin of a flea.’ Then controlling himself he added: ‘You’ll have been a reader of the shipping papers in your day, Bates. There’s nothing of the miraculous in the derelict. How many after this and bigger patterns are fallen in within a year?’ He then said to me: ‘Marian, here are your clothes. Which cabin do you choose?’ ‘Choose one for me, Tom.’ ‘The best,’ said he; and he carried my bundle into the cabin which we had first explored. I said nothing; his will was my law; he could have broken my heart by a fierce look or an angry speech. ‘You have worn this masquerade too long,’ said he, putting his hand upon it. ‘It unsexes my noble girl. Here is everything for comfort. I will fetch you water. I want to see my Marian refreshed and dressed--my proud and handsome girl again--as she was when I deserved her.’ ‘Tom, you thank me sadly for following you. Deserve me! Never was man loved as you are now. And you reproach me for following you? Suppose I had taken the next ship. The outbreak has happened in the meantime. We should have been separated for ever.’ ‘I’d have found you! I’d have found you!’ he cried, passionately pulling me to him and kissing me, heedless of Mr. Bates, who stood in the open door looking about him; but, indeed, I minded as little as Tom that the mate should see us. My sweetheart went out, and presently returned with a bucket of sparkling brine. ‘Now, Marian,’ said he, ‘see to yourself whilst we see to the brig. Come along, Bates. She’s but two hundred and twelve tons, and there are three of us.’ CHAPTER XXXIX SHE RELATES HOW HER SWEETHEART RESOLVES TO HIDE IN AN ISLAND The salt water refreshed me greatly, and my cheeks burned like roses and my eyes shone when I had dried myself. A square of mirror hung near the washstand. I had thought to see myself looking ill and yellow and wretched; and my breast swelled at sight of my handsome, sparkling face, so proud did my beauty make me feel for Tom’s sake. And yet I was now grown so used to my male attire that when I had clothed myself in my Woolwich dress, as I call it--and scarcely less strange than my own were the fortunes of this bundle of apparel--I found myself very uneasy. I missed the freedom of my legs. I don’t wonder that women should struggle from time to time to invent a dress that gives their limbs the liberty which men enjoy. However, I clothed myself very carefully, and when I had put on my hat I thought I looked the saucier and more piquant for my hair being cropped short. Do not call this egotism. It is my way of telling the story. I who relate it am old, and my youth and beauty are as the dust of half a century. When I was dressed I stepped out to be of help. Will was at the little wheel in front of the house. He gave a jump and his dear face brightened up.