Once again, during the meal, she slowly turned and flashed an inquiring
glance at me. I caught her eyes. She did not show the least
embarrassment, and asked me if the band insisted on playing every day.
Before she left the saloon, one could see that many present were talking
about her. Even the grim old captain followed her with his eyes as she
went. When she rose, I asked her if she was going on deck. I did it
casually, as though it was her usual custom to appear there after dinner.
In like fashion she replied that her maid had some unpacking to do, she
had some things to superintend, and, when this was done, she intended to
spend a time on deck. Then, with a peculiar smile, she passed out.

[Note by Dr. Marmion appended to his MSS.:--"Many of the
conversations and monologues in this history, not heard by myself
when they occurred, were told to me afterwards, or got from the
diaries and notes of the persons concerned. Only a few are purely
imaginary."]




CHAPTER II

"MOTLEY IS YOUR ONLY WEAR"

I went to my cabin, took a book, sat down, and began to smoke. My
thoughts drifted from the book, and then occurred a strange, incongruous
thing. It was a remembered incident. It came like a vision as I was
lighting a fresh cigar: