“And, aunty, we may go, mayn’t we, and we’ll be real good for a whole week afterward, aunty! Say yes, aunty dear!” All this after saying “Tomorrow”; for girls in Mauritius are, after all, the same as our girls in America; and their dear aunt said “Me, too” about the same as any really good aunt might say in my own country.
I was then in a quandary, it having recurred to me that on the very “tomorrow” I was to dine with the harbormaster, Captain Wilson. However, I said to myself, “The Spray will run out quickly into rough seas; these young ladies will have mal de mer and a good time, and I’ll get in early enough to be at the dinner, after all.” But not a bit of it. We sailed almost out of sight of Mauritius, and they just stood up and laughed at seas tumbling aboard, while I was at the helm making the worst weather of it I could, and spinning yarns to the aunt about sea-serpents and whales. But she, dear lady, when I had finished with stories of monsters, only hinted at a basket of provisions they had brought along, enough to last a week, for I had told them about my wretched steward.