Stewardesses are carried, of course, in British steamers--must be, for attendance upon the ladies. They are well treated by everybody on board except their charges, but some of them can tell some queer stories of endurance at the hands of these, who owe them so much comfort. These quiet, deft-handed women, who balance themselves so featly, roll the ship never so heavily, could tell many strange tales. Strange, is it not, in these days of reminiscence-writing, how carefully they hold their peace? Once I was shipmate with a lady passenger, one of the most accomplished ladies that it has ever been my privilege to speak to. She knew all that a woman should know, and many things that good, useful men did not know. And whatsoever she learned, if it seemed good to her, that she would put into practice. She was going out to that far country with a little capital, to prove to a sceptical world that a lady who could ride, shoot, swim, and run a farm as well as play the piano, sing, paint, and talk several languages, could make her way alone in a new world as well as any man. But fortune was unkind to her, and she failed in those days. Then she took on a stewardess's berth in a coasting steamer that carried some hundreds of passengers from port to port around one of the stormiest coasts in the world. We met when she had been at this for some months, and she had aged ten years in appearance. She was weary of life by her look, but she made no moan. Then in an awful gale her ship went ashore on an outlying reef. There were ninety female passengers on board, whom she considered a sacred charge. That charge she fulfilled, seeing them all safely boated away, while she retired to her cabin and locked herself in to meet the death that she had grown to look upon as a delivering friend. I would not close this all-too-brief account of the steward without again emphasizing the fact of his heavy claim to the consideration of all men. His business is not a showy one, and Jack is far too fond of hurling the opprobrious epithet, flunkey, at him; but there is a great deal of quiet heroism in his annals, and, in any case, his work is just as important as any other seafarer's. For men must be fed and their food taken care of. The doing of this with regularity, cleanliness, and cheerfulness is the part of the steward, and how well he does it let all sailors testify. CHAPTER XXII. THE COOK (IN STEAM).