At dawn all were astir, and by sunrise the passengers came on board. Boisterous was the welcome given by the stewardess to the “Watsons,” and great was the bustle made in their honour. They were four in number, two males and two females. Besides them, there was but one other passenger⁠—a young lady, whom a gentlemanly, though languid-looking man escorted. The two groups offered a marked contrast. The Watsons were doubtless rich people, for they had the confidence of conscious wealth in their bearing; the women⁠—youthful both of them, and one perfectly handsome, as far as physical beauty went⁠—were dressed richly, gaily, and absurdly out of character for the circumstances. Their bonnets with bright flowers, their velvet cloaks and silk dresses, seemed better suited for park or promenade than for a damp packet deck. The men were of low stature, plain, fat, and vulgar; the oldest, plainest, greasiest, broadest, I soon found was the husband⁠—the bridegroom I suppose, for she was very young⁠—of the beautiful girl. Deep was my amazement at this discovery; and deeper still when I perceived that, instead of being desperately wretched in such a union, she was gay even to giddiness.