Some hours afterwards Augusta woke up, feeling very restless. For an
hour or more she lay thinking of Mr. Tombey and many other things, and
listening to the swift "lap, lap," of the water as it slipped past the
vessel's sides, and the occasional tramp of the watch as they set fresh
sails. At last her feeling of unrest got too much for her, and she rose
and partially, very partially, dressed herself--for in the gloom she
could only find her flannel vest and petticoat--twisted her long hair
in a coil round her head, put on a hat and a thick ulster that hung
upon the door--for they were running into chilly latitudes--and slipped
out on deck.
It was getting towards dawn, but the night was still dark. Looking up,
Augusta could only just make out the outlines of the huge bellying
sails, for the Kangaroo was rushing along before the westerly wind under
a full head of steam, and with every inch of her canvas set to ease the
screw. There was something very exhilarating about the movement, the
freshness of the night, and the wild, sweet song of the wind as it sang
amongst the rigging. Augusta turned her face toward it, and, being
alone, stretched out her arms as though to catch it.
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