Why the apartment, into which Flora retreated on going on board was called a State-cabin, Flora could not imagine. It was really a very small closet, about seven feet in length, and a very little broader than it was long. It contained neither stool, bench, nor chair, and there was just room enough after closing the door, to turn round. The top of a large chest of painted deal drawers, with a raised board in front, and screened by faded red stuff curtains, formed the bed; for which Lyndsay had purchased a hair-mattress and feather pillows, to render it more comfortable during the voyage for his wife and child. This was perched up, however, at such an unreachable height from the ground, that the bed was on a level with Mrs. Lyndsay’s chin.

“How in the world shall I ever get into it?” said Flora, appealing to her attendant in a tone half laughing, half crying. “If it is such a difficult thing now when the ship is at anchor, what will it be when she is plunging about in a storm?”

“You had better hax the capting, Marm. He must know the proper way of climbing up, for it was his own berth.”

“That will seem so absurd. He may, however, have a step-ladder to reach it. Go to him, and ask him, with my compliments, how he gets into bed.”

Hannah, returned laughing, and with flushed cheeks.

“La, Marm, he says ’that he gets in like other folks; that where there’s a will there’s allers a way.’ An’ he burst out into such a loud roaring laugh that it made me feel quite ashamed. Arter he had had his fun and wiped his eye he has but one, you knows, Marm he cries out, ’Hout! lass, let her jest make a flight of steps, by pulling out the drawers one above another for a little way. They answer the purpose of stairs, and if she’s in downright earnest, she’ll soon learn how to get in.’”

Flora was highly delighted with the result of Hannah’s message. She immediately attempted the method proposed by the rough sailor, and after a trial or two, became quite expert in rolling in and out of the berth.

She now received a summons from the steward that “tea was ready.”

“That’s good news,” said Hannah; “I feel quite raversome with hunger, and if I don’t lay in a good stock to-night I shall feel bad enough to-morrow with the orrid sickness. The moment the ship begins to heave, I shall be heaving too.”

“Say nothing about it, Hannah, enjoy yourself while you can.”

“There’s company in the cabin, Marm, not ’zactly ladies, but kind of ladies, such as Misses Waddel would call decent folk. One of them was sitting upon the Capting’s knee when I went in, and drinking punch with him out of the same glass.”

“Very decent ladies, truly,” said Flora, doubtful whether to make one of such a refined party. Just as she had determined to remain where she was for the night, Lyndsay tapped at the door, and she called him in to hold a consultation.

“Come away,” said he, laughing, “it is only the Captain’s wife, and the mate’s, with two of their sisters. Nice good-tempered women, who will behave themselves with due decorum. Old Boreas will be quite hurt, if you refuse to come out of your den, and play the amiable to his woman folk.”

Flora no longer hesitated. She emerged from her hiding-place into the cabin, which now presented a very different appearance to what it had done some hours before. All the confusion of trunks and packages that had filled up the small available space had been removed, and it looked as neat and comfortable as such a confined crib could possibly look under the most favourable circumstances.

The company, consisting of four smartly-dressed young women, were ranged along the bench opposite the door from which Flora made her debut. They regarded her with a nervous, awkward agitation, as they rose simultaneously and dropped as low a courtesy as the narrow space between the bench and the table would allow. The ceremony of introduction then commenced, by the Captain rising to his legs, and stretching out his red, right hand with an air of dignity, “Mrs. Lyndsay, cabin passenger in the brig Anne Mrs. Williams, my wife, Ma’am, Mrs. Collins, Mrs. Lyndsay, my wife’s sister-in-law, Miss Nancy and Betsy Collins, Mrs. Lyndsay, Mr. Collins, my first mate, and brother to Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Lyndsay.”

Then came the shaking of hands. Lyndsay, who observed the embarrassment of the family party assembled in the cabin, received them with a frank courtesy, which soon restored confidence, and set them at their ease; though it was difficult to refrain from a smile at the scared look they cast at each other when Mrs. Lyndsay took her seat among them; and the dead silence which fell upon them, and checked the lively chattering that a few minutes before had rung through the cabin.

Tea and coffee were smoking upon the table, which was covered with all sorts of dainties, which the captain’s wife had brought in a basket to make merry with, and which she proffered to the strangers with true Scotch hospitality, assuring them that the rich bun and short-bread had been made with her ain hands, as a little treat for Jock before leaving the country.

“Meg forgets that I’m a rough English sailor, and don’t care a fig for her Scotch sunkets,” quoth Boreas, speaking with his mouth full of short bread. “A good red herring and a slice of Gloster cheese is worth them all. But wilful women will have their own way, and I must eat the mawkish trash to please her.”

“An’ find it varrà gude, Jock, an’ I’m no mistaken,” said the buxom fair-haired woman, tapping his rough cheek. “It wad be something new for him to praise onything made by his ain wife.”

And then she rattled away about the inconstancy of men, and of sailors especially, in such a droll, provoking manner, that she forced her rude lord to lay aside his dignity and laugh at her nonsense. She was a comely, sonsy dame, neither very young, nor very pretty; but he was her senior by many years, and he bore her raillery with the same grace that a staid old cat submits to the impertinent caresses and cuffs of a frolicsome kitten. When he growled and swore, she clapped her hands and laughed, and called him her dear old sea-bear, and hoped that he would not die of grief during her absence.

“Never fear, Meg, I don’t mean to give you the chance of tormenting another fellow out of his wits. I shall live long enough to plague you yet.”

“Na doubt,” said Meg, “which thought will console me for your absence; an’ I sall be as merry as a lark until you return to execute your threat.”

“Meg, you are a daft woman,” said Collins, the mate. “The captain does na half like your teasing. Can’t you leave him alone?”

“Mind your ain business, Wullie, an’ take care of your ain wife. I canna play the fule like Jean, wha’s whimperin’ by hersel in the corner.”

This was indeed the case. Mrs. Collins had only been married a few weeks, and the parting with her bridegroom was a heart-breaking affair. They were a very interesting young couple; and the tall, fair girl sat apart from the rest of the group, nursing an agony of fear in her gentle breast, lest her Willie should be drowned, and she should never see him again. She made desperate efforts to control her grief, and conceal the tears that rolled in quick succession down her pale cheeks. Collins sprang to her side, and circling her slender waist with his manly arm, whispered into her ears loving words, full of hope and comfort. It would not do: the poor girl could not be reconciled to the separation, and answered all his tender endearments with low, stifled sobs, filling the heart of the lover husband, with the grief which burthened her own.

Collins had a fine sensible face, though it had been considerably marred by the small-pox. His features were straight and well-cut, his hair dark and curling, his handsome grey eyes full of manly fire. Though not exactly a gentleman, he possessed high and honourable feelings, and his frank manners and independent bearing won for him the goodwill and respect of all.

Doubtless Jean thought him the handsomest man in a’ Scotland; and most women would have said that he was a good-looking dashing sailor. As he bent over his disconsolate weeping bride, with such affectionate earnest love beaming from his fine eyes, and tried with gentle words to reconcile her to their inevitable parting, he afforded a striking contrast to his superior, who regarded a temporary absence from his spouse as a thing of course, a mere matter of business, which he bore with his usual affectation of stubborn indifference.

Feeling that her presence must be a restraint upon the family party, the moment the evening meal was concluded Flora bade them good night, and retired to her state cabin, worn out with the fatigue of the day. The rain was still falling heavily, and she was forced to leave her door partly unclosed to obtain a little air, for the heat was oppressive in the close confined berth. For a long time she lay awake, now thinking sad thoughts and shedding sadder tears, now listening to the hum of voices in the outer-cabin, broken occasionally by songs and merry bursts of laughter.

The captain’s wife and her sisters, she found, were on their way to Anster fair, which was to be held on the morrow, at which place they were to be put on shore. And she remembered the old song of Maggie Lauder, and her encounter with the piper on her way to that celebrated fair: and was not a little amused to hear old Boreas, as if he had read her thoughts, roar out the national ditty in a hoarse deep voice, as rough and unmusical as a nor-wester piping among the shrouds.

As she reclined on her pillow, she could just see through a small aperture in the red curtains which concealed her person from observation the party gathered around the cabin-table. The captain’s wife was seated on his knee, and Jean’s pale cheek rested on her bridegroom’s manly breast. Old Boreas was in his glory, for the brandy bottle was before him, and he was insisting upon the ladies taking a glass of punch, and drinking success to the voyage. This they all did with a very good grace; even the pensive Jean sipping occasionally from her husband’s tumbler.

The captain’s wife began teasing him for a fairing, which he very bluntly refused to bestow. She called in the aid of Miss Nancy and Betsy, and they charged down upon him with such a din of voices, that the jolly tar emptied the contents of his leathern purse into Meg’s lap, who clutched the silver and kissed him, and clapped his broad back, and laughed like a child.

By-and-by he was forced to leave her to go upon deck. She then rose and went to her brother, and laying her hand upon his shoulder, addressed him in a manner so serious, so different from her former deportment, that Flora could scarcely believe it was the same person that now spoke.

“Wullie, ye maun promise me to keep a gude look out on Jock during the voyage. He’s jest killin’ o’ himsel wi’ drink. Canna ye persuade him to gie it up ava?”

The mate shook his head. “Ye ken the man, Maggie. He wull gang his ain gate.”

Maggie sighed heavily. “It’s a puir look-out for his wife an’ the twa weans. He’ll no leave it aff for our sakes; but you maun put in a word o’ advice now and then.”

“It’s of na use, Maggie. He’s as obstinate as a brute beast. If he wull na do it for your sake and the bairns he’ll no be convinced by word o’ mine. I’m thinkin’, that opposition on that heid wud do mair harm than gude.”

“An’ then, they women folk Wullie. He’s na to be trusted. Wi’ him out o’ sight is out o’ mind. He never thinks o’ his wife at hame the moment he puts out to sea.”

“Dinna be sae jealous, woman. Ha’ ye na faith?” said Collins, pressing Jean closer to his heart “Do ye think that sailors ar’ waur than ither men?”

“Ye are a’ alike,” sighed Meg, “though doubtless Jean thinks ye wull ever be true to her, an’ keep your eyes shut when you pass a pretty lass for her sake. I ken you better.”

“I were nae worthy to be your brither’s wife, Maggie, an’ I doubted his honesty,” said Jean indignantly, as she lifted her long, fair curls from her husband’s breast, and regarded him with a glance of proud devotion. “If ye had mair faith in Jock, he wu’d be a better man.”

“It’s early days wi’ ye yet, Jean; wait a wee while afore ye find faut wi’ yer elders. Wullie weel kens, that I’m na mistrustfu’ wi’out cause.”

Flora did not hear the mate’s reply: sleep weighed heavily upon her eyelids, and she dropped off into profound repose.