Morning after morning I crept out on deck, and sat all day leaning against the bulwarks, with a cloak drawn round me, seeing nothing but the waves and sky, and indifferent to wind or rain, or the hot sun which sometimes shone on me.
All this time I had taken no notice of the Indians, who for their part avoided me, and left me a portion of the deck always undisturbed.

But one day as I sat as usual vacantly looking out to sea, I was disturbed by the cries of a child.

The babies, although there were four or five in the party, were usually so quiet that the sound surprised me.

I looked round, and saw the women gathered together in a group, consulting over the child, which still cried as if in violent pain.

At last I got up, and went to the place, where I found that the poor little creature, a girl of about a year old, had fallen down a hatchway and broken her arm.
She had lost her mother in England, and was in the care of an elder sister, who hung over her in the greatest distress, while the other women were preparing to bandage the arm.