disappearing line of prisoners. It was an evening promising storm,
with some motion to the sea, and a heavy bank of clouds visible off
the port quarter, brightened by flashes of zigzag lightning. The brig
rolled dizzily, so the cavalier sought to steady her steps, but she
only laughed at the effort, waving him aside, as she moved easily
forward. Once with hand on the rail, she ignored his presence
entirely, looking first at the threatening cloud, and then permitting
her gaze to rest once more upon the line of men descending through the
hatch.

It had become my turn to go down, yet in that instant our eyes met
fairly, and I instantly knew she saw and recognized me. For a single
second our glances clung, as though some mysterious influence held us
to each other--then the angry guard struck me with the stock of his
piece.

"What er ye standin' thar fer?" he demanded savagely. "Go on
down--lively now."

I saw her clasping fingers convulsively grip the rail, and, even at
that distance, marked a sudden flame of color in her cheeks. That was
all her message to me, yet quite enough. Although we had never spoken,
although our names were yet unknown, I was no criminal to her mind,
no unrecognized prisoner beneath contempt, but a human being in whom
she already felt a personal interest, and to whom she extended thought
and sympathy. The blow of the gun-stock bruised my back, yet it was
with a smile and a light heart that I descended the ladder, deeply
conscious of a friend on board--one totally unable to serve me,
perhaps, yet nevertheless a friend. Even in our isolation, guarded in
those narrow quarters, much of the ship gossip managed in some way to