“Lunch,” declared Mrs. Blair ecstatically. “I’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast, except two cups of beef tea. Lunch, Miss Beddingfeld?”

“Well,” I said waveringly. “Yes, I do feel rather hungry.”

“Splendid. You’re sitting at the purser’s table, I know. Tackle him about the cabin.”

I found my way down to the saloon, began to eat gingerly, and finished by consuming an enormous meal. My friend of yesterday congratulated me on my recovery. Everyone was changing cabins today, he told me, and he promised that my things should be moved to an outside one without delay.

There were only four at our table, myself, a couple of elderly ladies, and a missionary who talked a lot about “our poor black brothers.”