rp, stinging drops
like hailstones upon my face and hands. It must have been close upon
midnight, and there was no light but the dim, glow-worm glimmer of the
lanterns on deck. Every one was hurrying past me. I began almost to
repent of the desperate step I had taken; but I had learned already that
there is no possibility of retracing one's steps. At the gangways of the
two vessels there were men shouting hoarsely. "This way for the Channel
Islands!" "This way for Havre and Paris!" To which boat should I trust
myself and my fate? There was nothing to guide me. Yet once more that
night the moment had come when I was compelled to make a prompt,
decisive, urgent choice. It was almost a question of life and death to
me: a leap in the dark that must be taken. My great terror was lest my
place of refuge should be discovered, and I be forced back again. Where
was I to go? To Paris, or to the Channel Islands?

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

A ROUGH NIGHT AT SEA.

A mere accident decided it. Near the fore-part of the train I saw the
broad, tall figure of my new friend, the seaman, making his way across
to the boat for the Channel Islands; and almost involuntarily I made up
my mind to go on board the same steamer, for I had an instinctive
feeling that he would prove a real friend, if I had need of one. He did
not see me following; no doubt he supposed I had left the train at
Southampton, having only taken my ticket so far; though how I had missed
Southampton I could not tell. The deck was wet and slippery, and the
confusion upon it was very great. I was too much at home upon a steamer
to need any directions; and I went down immediately into the ladies'
cabin, which was almost empty, and chose a berth for myself in the
darkest corner. It was not far from the door, and presently two other
ladies came down, with a gentleman and the captain, and held an anxious
parley close to me. I listened absently and mechanically, as indifferent
to the subject as if it could be of no consequence to me.

"Is there any danger?" asked one of the ladies.

"Well, I cannot say positively there will be no danger," answered the
captain; "there's not danger enough to keep me and the crew in port; but
it will be a very dirty night in the Channel. If there's no actual
necessity for crossing to-night I should advise you to wait, and see how
it will be to-morrow. Of course we shall use extra caution, and all that
sort of thing. No; I cannot say I expect any