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Updated: May 22, 2025
As we approached the ladder the passengers ran aft, and directly we reached the deck the captain took possession of Tom, the first and second officers of Mabelle and myself, while Captain Runciman and each of his crew were surrounded by a little audience eager to know what had happened, and all about it.
I spent the three hours during which the dinner lasted in very pleasant conversation with my two neighbours. We returned on board soon after eleven o'clock. Monday, March 19th. Mabelle and I went ashore at six o'clock for a drive. It was a glorious morning, with a delightfully cool breeze, and the excursion was most enjoyable.
"You do the prophecy, it appears?" she said at last. "Oh no," said Mabel; "I got that out of a book. I can tell you lots more fatal love-stories any time you like." The French governess gave a little jump, as though she had suddenly remembered something. "It is nearly dinner-time," she said. "Your friend Mabelle, yes will be your convivial, and in her honour we will make a little feast.
At about half-past six, Tom and Mabelle returned from their expedition to the largest and most comfortable estancia in the country, where they were received most hospitably, and enjoyed themselves very much. After dinner, some of our party left in the whale-boat, being anxious to be present at Madame Almazilia's benefit performance at the opera, for which I fear they arrived too late after all.
Tom was looking at the stern compass, Allnutt being close to him. Mr. Bingham and Mr. Freer were smoking, half-way between the quarter-deck and the after-companion, where Captain Brown, Dr. Potter, Muriel, and I, were standing. Captain Lecky, seated on a large coil of rope, placed on the box of the rudder, was spinning Mabelle a yarn.
Tom had decided previously to go straight on, so as to have the yacht quite ready for an early start to-morrow. I in the meantime went to our former hosts for one night to pick up Mabelle and the waifs and strays of luggage.
She wash little Pierre, an' cut his hair. She wash Jean an' Mabelle. She laugh an' sing an' hol' the baby, an' my Iowla laugh an' sing; an' she takes down my Iowla's hair, which is so long that it falls to her knees, an' does it up in a wonderful way an' says she would give everything she got if she could have that hair.
Sunday, March 18th. At six o'clock this morning Mabelle and I went ashore with the steward and the comprador to the market. It is a nice, clean, octagonal building, well supplied with vegetables and curious fruits. The latter are mostly brought from the other islands, as this is the worst season of the year in Singapore for fruit.
Mabelle is convalescent; Muriel not so well; Baby certainly better. In the afternoon one of the boiler-tubes burst. It was repaired, and we went on steaming. In the evening it burst again, and was once more repaired, without causing a long stoppage. Friday, January 12th. Wednesday morning with us was Tuesday evening with people in England, and we were thus twelve hours in advance of them.
From her rig we at once guessed her to be the Pacific Company's mail boat, homeward bound. When near enough, we accordingly hoisted our number, and signalled 'We wish to communicate, whereupon she bore down upon us and ceased steaming. We then rounded up under her lee and lowered a boat, and Tom, Mabelle, and I, with Captain Runciman and four or five of the shipwrecked crew, went on board.
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