As we had sailed on the understanding that the Water-Lily was bound to New York and back again to Halifax, of course we made a fuss and protested at the change.  But we had not really much practical choice in the matter, whatever our strict rights were, and on the whole we found it would be to our advantage to go through with it, especially as we did secure a better understanding about our wages, and the captain promised us more rest on Sundays.  On one point we still felt anxious—­our home letters; so Dennis wrote to the post-master at Halifax, and arranged for them to be forwarded to us at the post-office, Georgetown, Demerara.  For Alfonso was right, we were bound for British Guiana, it being however understood that we three were not under obligation to make the return voyage in the Water-Lily.

An odd incident occurred during our brief stay in New York.  It was after the interview in which we came to terms with the captain, and he had given us leave for three hours ashore.  You can’t see very much of a city when you have no money to spend in it; but we had walked about till we were very hungry, and yet more thirsty, for it was hot, when we all three caught sight of a small shop (or store, as Americans would call it), and we all spoke at once.

“Cooling drinks!” exclaimed Dennis.

“There’s cakes yonder,” said Alister.

“Michael Macartney,” muttered I, for that was the name over the door.

We went in as a customer came out, followed by Michael Macartney’s parting words in a rich brogue that might have been old Biddy’s own.  I took a good look at him, which he returned with a civil comment on the heat, and an inquiry as to what I would take, which Dennis, in the thirstiness of his throat, answered for me, leaving me a few moments more of observation.  I made a mental calculation, and decided that the man’s age would fit Micky, and in the indescribableness of the colour of his clothes and his complexion he was undoubtedly like Biddy, but if they had been born in different worlds the expression of his eyes could not have been more different.  I had the clearest remembrance of hers.  One does not so often look into the eyes of a stranger and see genuine feeling that one should forget it.  For the rest of him, I was glad that Biddy had allowed that there was no similarity “betwixt us.”  He had a low forehead, a broad nose, a very wide mouth, full of very large teeth, and the humorous twinkle in his eye did not atone for the complete absence of that steady light of honest tenderness which shone from Biddy’s as freely and fearlessly as the sun shines.  He served Dennis and Alister and turned to me.

“Have you a mother in Liverpool?” I asked, before he had time to ask me which “pop” I wanted.

As I have said, his mouth was big, but I was almost aghast at the size to which it opened, before he was able to say, “Murther and ages!  Was ye there lately?  Did ye know her?”