he
seeming of despair. These were the victims of the pirates' lust, and as
they sat together they would wail now and then in a way that was pitiful
to hear. But there was one woman who sat a little apart from the others
and held her head high, and this woman was Barbara Hatchett. I scarce
knew if I should approach her or no, but when she saw me, which was the
moment I came aboard, she made me a sign with her head, and I at once
went up to her. All the warm colour had gone out of her dark face, and
the fire had faded from her dark eyes, but she was still very beautiful
in her misery, and she carried herself grandly, like a ruined queen. As
I looked at her my mind went back to that first day I ever saw her and
was bewitched by her, and then to that other day when I found her in the
sea-fellow's arms and thought the way of the world was ended. And for
the sake of my old love and my old sorrow my heart was racked for her,
and I could have cried as I had cried that day upon the downs. But there
were no tears in the woman's eyes, and as I came she stood up and held
out her hand to me with an air of pride; and I am glad to think that I
had the grace to kiss it and to kneel as I kissed it.

'Well, Ralph,' she said, 'this is a queer meeting for old friends and
old flames. We did not think of this in the days when we watched the sea
and waited for my ship.'

I could say nothing, but she went on, and her voice was quite steady:

'This is a grand ship, but it is not my ship. My ship came in and my
ship went out, and the devil took it and my heart's desire and me.'

She was silent for a moment, and then she asked me what the boats were
bringing from the island. I told her that they were conveying the
prisoners aboard to be carried to trial at Batavia. She heard me with a
changeless face, as she looked across the sea where the ship's boats
were making their way to the ship, and after awhile she asked me if I
thought that we were bound to forgive our enemies and those who had used
us evilly.

I was at a loss what to answer, but I stammered out somewhat to the
effect that such was our Christian duty. The words stuck a little in my
throat, for I did not feel in a forgiving mood at that moment.

'So Mr. Ebrow tells us,' she went on softly. Mr. Ebrow had been sent on
board at once, and had immediately devoted himself, sick and weak though
he was, to ministrations among the unhappy women. 'So Mr. Ebrow says,
and he is a good man, and