Ida drew a long breath and passed her hand over her brow. It was

absurd, of course, it was a trick of the imagination, of a wearied and

overstrained brain--but the tall figure in the blue serge--ah, how like

it was to that of Stafford!

It disappeared with that of the big man into the vessel, and, with a

sigh, she was coming away when she saw the two men coming along the

deck and mount to the quarter. The fat man was talking and laughing,

but the man in the blue serge was grave and silent, as if he was lost

in thought and not listening.

Suddenly, as she paused, the younger, slimmer figure turned in her

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direction and uttered a cry, a cry almost of terror. Was she demented?

Had her longing, her aching longing for a sight of him called up this

vision of Stafford? Unless she were out of her mind, the victim of a

strange hallucination, it was he himself who stood there, his face,

pale and haggard, turned towards her.

"Stafford!" she cried, unconsciously, and her hand gripped the iron

rail in front of her.

As if he had heard her--though it was impossible that her voice could

reach him through the shouts of the sailors, the lowing and bleating of

the cattle--he raised his head and looked in her direction. Their eyes

met and were enchained for a moment, which seemed an eternity; then the

blood flew to his face, leaving it the next moment paler than before.

He swung round to the fat man by his side and clutched his arm.

"Wait! Stop the vessel! I want to go ashore!" he said, hoarsely.

Mr. Joffler stared at him, then laughed.

"Hold on, sir!" he said, not unsympathetically. "Hold on! Took queer

like! Lor' bless you, I know how the feelin' is! It catches at you

right in the middle of the waistcoat. It's the thought of the land

going back from you--we're moving, we're well away. Here, take a sip of

this! You'll get over it in a brace o' shakes."

He thrust a flask into Stafford's hand, but Stafford put it away from

him.

"Let me go ashore! I'll join you later," he said, breathlessly.

Mr. Joffler caught his arm as he was about to jump for the quay.

"Steady, steady, sir!" he admonished, soothingly. "We can't stop--and

you'd break your neck trying to jump it! And all for a fancy, too, I'd

stake my life! Hearten up, man, hearten up! You're not the first to

feel sick and sorry at leavin' home and friends."




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