view over the side.

The deck aft was almost deserted, the passengers being at supper in
the cabin. I could glimpse them through the unshaded windows, seated
about a long table, while occasionally the sound of their voices
reached me through the open companion-way. The mate was alone on the
poop, tramping steadily back and forth, his glance wandering from the
sea alongside to the flapping canvas above, but remained silent, as
the brig was on her course. Once he clambered down the side ladder,
and walked forward, shouting out some order to a group of sailors
under the lee of the forecastle. It was on his return that I ventured
to question him, and was gruffly answered. Something I said however,
gave him knowledge that I was a seaman, and he paused a moment more
civilly before resuming his watch, even pointing out what resembled
the gleam of a distant sail far away on our starboard quarter. This
was such a dim speck against the darkening horizon that I stood up to
see better, shadowing my eyes, and forgetful of all else in aroused
interest. Undoubtedly it was a sail, although appearing no larger than
a gull's wing, and my imagination took me in spirit across the leagues
of water. I was still standing there absorbed, unaware even that the
mate had departed, when a voice, soft-spoken and feminine, broke the
silence.

"May I speak with you?"

I turned instantly, so thoroughly surprised, my voice faltered as I
gazed into the upturned face of the questioner. She stood directly
beside me, with only the rope barrier stretched between us, her head
uncovered, the contour of her face softened by the twilight. Instantly
my cap was off, and I was bowing courteously.