I stood stock-still at the side of Mrs. Lee, staring about me, and for some moments no one seemed to observe us. At any time in my life such a spectacle would have been in the highest degree novel and of the deepest interest. Now it affected me as it would a child. It induced a simple emotion of wonder and delight--the sort of wonder and delight that makes young people clap their hands. Beyond the poop was a deck which I could not see; but in the bows of the ship was a raised deck, called the forecastle, and it was crowded with the emigrant folks sunning themselves, the men lounging, squatting, and smoking, the women, in queer bonnets or bright handkerchiefs tied round their heads, eagerly talking. I looked up at the sails and around at the sea, and at the scene on deck, brightly coloured by the clothes of the ladies.
‘How wonderful! How beautiful!’ I exclaimed.
‘Is she not a noble ship?’ said Mrs. Lee.
The captain turned his head and saw us. He crossed the deck, and asked me in his grave, kindly way how I did. I am glad you have come on deck,’ said he. ‘The mind will grow strong as the body grows strong; but the sun is nearly at his meridian, and I must keep an eye upon him,’ and he stepped back to take his place at the rail.
I caught Mr. Harris, the first officer, inspecting me furtively. When our gaze met he pulled off his cap, and then, with a manner of abrupt energy, reapplied himself to pointing his sextant at the sea.
‘You have made the acquaintance of Mr. Harris, the chief officer?’ said Mrs. Lee.
‘I met him on deck here at one o’clock this morning,’ I answered. ‘We held a short conversation, and he is of opinion that a violent shock, such as my falling overboard, would restore my memory.’
‘Sailors are a singular people,’ said Mrs. Lee. ‘They love to give opinions on anything which does not concern their profession, yet outside their profession they know little--often nothing. Many sea-captains used to visit our house in my poor husband’s lifetime, and out of their talk I might have collected quite a bookful of absurd ideas and laughable superstitions.’
But now my presence on deck had been observed, and in a few moments a number of the passengers gathered about me. I cannot recollect what was said. I was confused by many eyes being bent upon me. One hoped that I was quite recovered, another congratulated me upon my preservation, a third marvelled that I had not died of fright in the cabin of the French brig. Many such things were said, and I had to shake hands with several of the friendly people. There were twenty-five or thirty passengers, and, though a few held aloof, the crowd about me seemed a large one.