The Maid of Sker

to leap overboard if either or both of them should jump in. However, they had more sense than that; though they went on very tenderly, and with a soft strain quite unfit to belong to a British officer. Being, from ancient though humble birth, gifted with a deal of delicacy, I pulled out two plugs of tobacco, which happened to be in my mouth just now, and I spared them both to stop my ears, though striking inwards painfully. I tried to hear nothing for ever so long; but I found myself forced to ease out the plugs, they did smart so confoundedly. And this pair wanted someone now to take a judicious view of them, for which few men, perhaps, could be found better qualified than I was. For they carried on in so high a manner, that it seemed as if they could be cured by nothing short of married life, of which I had so much experience. And the principal principle of that state is, that neither party must begin to make too much of the other side. But being now over that sort of thing, I found myself snug in a corner, and able to view them with interest and considerable candour.

“Is there no hope of it, then, after all; after all you have done and suffered, and the prayers of everybody?” This was the maiden, of course having right to the first word, and the last of it.

“There is hope enough, my darling; but nothing ever comes of it. And how can I search out this strange matter, while I am on service always?”

“Throw it up, Drake; my dear heart, for my sake, throw it up, and throw over all ambition, until you are cleared of this foul shame.”

“My ambition is slender now,” he answered, “and would be content with one slender lady.” Here he gave her a squeeze, that threatened not only to make her slenderer, but also to make the rail need more stoutness, and me to keep ready for plunging. “Nevertheless, you know,” he went on, when the plank and the rail put up with it, “I cannot think of myself for a moment, while I am thus on duty. We expect orders for America.”

“So you said; and it frightens me. If that should be so, what ever, ever can become of us?”

“My own dear, you are a child; almost a child for a man like me, knocked about the world so much, and ever so unfortunate.”

The rest of his speech was broken into, much to my dissatisfaction, by a soft caressing comfort, such as women’s pity yields without any consideration. Only they made all sorts of foolish promises, and eternal pledges, touched up with confidence, and hope, and mutual praise, and faith, and doubt, and the other ins and outs of love.

“I won’t cry any more,” she said, with several sobs between it; “I ought not to be so with you, who are so strong, and good, and kind. Your honour is cruelly wronged at home: you never shall say that your own, own love wished you to peril it also abroad.”

He took her quietly into his arms; and they seemed to strengthen one another. And to my eyes came old tears, or at any rate such as had come long ago. These two people stood a great time, silent, full of one another, keeping close with reverent longing, gazing yet not looking at the moonlight and the water. Then the delicate young maiden (for such her voice and outline showed her, though I could not judge her face) shivered in the curling fog which the climbing moon had brought. Hereupon the captain felt that her lungs must be attended to, as well as her lips, and her waist, and heart; and he said in a soft way, like a shawl⁠—

“Come away, my lovely darling, from the cold, and fog, and mist. Your little cloak is damp all through; and time it is for me to go. Discipline I will have always; and I must have the same with you, until you take command of me.”

“Many, many a weary year, ere I have the chance of it, Captain Drake.” The young thing sighed as she spoke, though perhaps without any sense of prophecy.

“Isabel, let us not talk like that, even if we think it. The luck must turn some day, my darling; even I cannot be always on the evil side of it. How often has my father said so! And what stronger proof can I have than you? As long as you are true to me⁠—”

They were turning away, when this bright idea, which seems to occur to lovers always, under some great law of nature, to prolong their interviews;⁠—this compelled them to repeat pretty much the same forms, and ceremonies, assurances, pledges, and suchlike, which had passed between them scarcely more than three or four minutes ago, at the utmost. And again I looked away, because I would have had others do so to me; and there was nothing new to learn by it.

“Only one thing more, my own,” said the lady, taking his arm again; “one more thing you must promise me. If you care for me at all, keep out of the way of that dreadful man.”

“Why, how can I meet him at sea, my Bell? Even if he dislikes me, as you tell me perpetually, though I never gave him cause, that I know of.”

“He does not dislike you, Drake Bampfylde; he hates you with all the venomous, cold, black hatred, such as I fear to think of⁠—oh my dear, oh my dear!”

“Now, Isabel, try not to be so foolish. I never could believe such a thing, and I never will, without clearest proof. I never could feel like that myself, even if anyone wronged me deeply. And in spite of all my bad luck, Bell, I have never wronged anyone. At least more than you know of.”

“Then don’t wrong me, my own dear love, by