"The chief mate came handing a wonderfully timid young lady down the poop-ladder with great care, and as soon as they were safe on the quarter-deck, she asked, with a confiding sort of lisp, 'And where are we going _now_ then, Mr Finch?' 'Well, miss,' simpered he, 'wherever _you_ please, I'll be glad to conduct you!' 'Oh, but the ship I mean,' replied she, giggling prettily. 'Why,' said Finch, stooping down to the binnacle, 'she heads due south-east at present, miss.' 'I _am_ so glad you are going on again!' said the young lady; 'but oh! when shall we see dear _land_ once more, Mr Finch?' 'Not for more than a week, I fear,' answered the mate, 'when we arrive at the Cape of Good Hope. But there, miss, your poetic feelings will be gratified, I assure you. The hills there, I might say, Miss Brodie,' he went on, 'not to speak of the woods, are quite dramatic! You mustn't suppose the rough mariner, rude as he seems, Miss Brodie, is entirely devoid of romance in his sentiments, I hope!' and he looked down for the twentieth time that morning at his boots as he handed her down the cabin hatchway, longing to see the Cape, no doubt. 'Much romance, as you call it, there is in ugly Harry yonder!' thought I; and comparing this sort of stuff, aft, with the matter-of-fact notions before the mast, made me the more anxious for what might turn up in a few hours, with this gallant first officer left in full charge, and the captain, as I understood, unable to leave his cot. A good enough seaman the fellow was, so far as your regular deep-sea work went, which those India voyagers had chiefly to do with then; but for aught out of the way, or a sudden pinch, why, the peace had just newly set them free of their leading-strings, and here this young mate brought his new-fangled school navigation, forsooth, to run the _Seringapatam_ into some mess or other; whereas, in a case of the kind, I had no doubt he would prove as helpless as a child.