The boat was handsomely laden with potatoes, pieces of fresh beef, poultry, eggs, and other produce. Daly came over the side with a little bright tin can in his hand. He immediately stepped up to me, and with a quaint old sea-bow and a sea-flourish, said he had taken the liberty to bring me off a drink of milk; ’twas fresh from one of his own cows that morning, he assured me. There was no sweeter draught, said he, than a can of new milk after a few months of salt water. I thanked him heartily. Of all delicious draughts, the delicatest that I remember in seventy-seven years was that drink of new milk from the island of Tristan d’Acunha. Daly told Mr. Bates that Corporal Glass was still too unwell to come off; he sent his compliments to the captain, and begged a visit. Bates answered that the captain was poorly and confined to his bed. Then Daly brought the islanders up to us and introduced them; two of them were sons of the corporal, others sons of Cotton, Swain, and Green. Daly’s own son was a man of about thirty, strong, active, and good-looking, tinctured with the blood of a mulatto mother. They swiftly discharged their whale-boat, got the _Childe Harold’s_ quarter-boat, stowed casks for filling with fresh water, and pulled away for the island. I went to Tom and gave him the news. He came out of his berth on hearing the islanders were gone, and walked about the deck, and looked at the stuff that had been brought off; then went with Bates and Will into the hold, where they passed up one to another a number of parcels of clothing till as much was on deck as the provisions which had been brought off were worth. It was past one o’clock when the boats put off for the brig. The whale-boat came along with ours in tow. It was blowing a soft steady air of wind out of the north; the sky was cloudless; the rippling of water made you think of a gentle noise of girlish laughter, and the heave of the swell shouldered in stately volumes out of the west, wide drawn and round-backed, so that the movements of the brig were like a pulse. Tom rested the telescope on the bulwark-rail and looked at the approaching boats. He continued to gaze; I feared the boats would draw near enough to enable the people to see him. He suddenly turned to me with a pale face that was yet dark with a frown, and exclaimed: ‘Marian, Rotch and Nodder are there!’ With that he gave the telescope to Bates, and merely adding, ‘Report when the islanders are gone and you’ve trimmed for the start,’ he walked to his berth. My heart now began to beat wildly, and I felt faint and sick with excitement. Will and Bates looked at me. I said: ‘I’ll withdraw to the end of the deck-house. Does not my face tell a story?’ ‘You look like a ghost,’ exclaimed Will, ‘and your eyes are like live coals! Go right away aft, and keep quiet, and take time to screw your fiddlestrings of nerves into tune. Mr. Bates and I’ll manage better without you.’