"Were you ever in a dreadful storm?" asked Florence.
"Why aye, my lady lass, I ’ve seen my share of bad weather," said the Captain, tremulously wiping his head, "and I ’ve had my share of knocking about; but—but it an’t of myself as I was a meaning to speak. Our dear boy," drawing closer to her, "Wal’r, darling, as was drownded."
The Captain spoke in such a trembling voice, and looked at Florence with a face so pale and agitated, that she clung to his hand in affright.
"Your face is changed," cried Florence. "You are altered in a moment. What is it? Dear Captain Cuttle, it turns me cold to see you!"
"What! Lady lass," returned the Captain, supporting her with his hand, "don’t be took aback. No, no! All’s well, all’s well, my dear. As I was a saying—Wal’r—he’s—he’s drownded. An’t he?"
Florence looked at him intently; her colour came and went; and she laid her hand upon her breast.
"There’s perils and dangers on the deep, my beauty," said the Captain; "and over many a brave ship, and many and many a bould heart, the secret waters has closed up, and never told no tales. But there’s escapes upon the deep, too, and sometimes one man out of a score,—ah! maybe out of a hundred, pretty,—has been saved by the mercy of God, and come home after being given over for dead, and told of all hands lost. I—I know a story, Heart’s Delight," stammered the Captain, "o’ this natur, as was told to me once; and being on this here tack, and you and me sitting alone by the fire, maybe you’d like to hear me tell it. Would you, deary?"
Florence, trembling with an agitation which she could not control or understand, involuntarily followed his glance, which went behind her into the shop, where a lamp was burning. The instant that she turned her head, the Captain sprung out of his chair, and interposed his hand.
"There’s nothing there, my beauty," said the Captain. "Don’t look there."
"Why not?" asked Florence.
The Captain murmured something about its being dull that way, and about the fire being cheerful. He drew the door ajar, which had been standing open until now, and resumed his seat. Florence followed him with her eyes, and looked intently in his face.
"The story was about a ship, my lady lass," began the Captain, "as sailed out of the Port of London, with a fair wind and in fair weather, bound for—don’t be took aback, my lady lass, she was only out’ard bound, pretty, only out’ard bound!"
The expression on Florence’s face alarmed the Captain, who was himself very hot and flurried, and showed scarcely less agitation than she did.
"Shall I go on, Beauty?" said the Captain.
"Yes, yes, pray!" cried Florence.
The Captain made a gulp as if to get down something that was sticking in his throat, and nervously proceeded:
"That there unfort’nate ship met with such foul weather, out at sea, as don’t blow once in twenty year, my darling. There was hurricanes ashore as tore up forests and blowed down towns, and there was gales at sea in them latitudes, as not the stoutest wessel ever launched could live in. Day arter day that there unfort’nate ship behaved noble, I’m told, and
