Sleep was long coming, and no sooner was I unconscious of things about
me than I began to dream bad dreams. I thought I was stumbling along in
the dark, 'Twas over graves. I fell over a heap of earth, and heard the
stones drop down into one newly made. As I was trying to walk away,
Margaret came to meet me. "You didn't bid me good-bye," said she,
smiling; "but it's not too late now." Then she held out her hand. I took
it, but the touch waked me. 'Twas just like a dead hand.

I kept sleeping and waking; and every time I slept, the same dream came
to me,--exactly the same. At last I rushed upon deck, sent a man below,
and took his place. He was glad to go, and I was glad to be where the
wind was blowing and everything in commotion.

The next day I told Jamie my dream. He said it was a lucky one, and he
hoped it meant two weddings. So I thought no more of it. I was never
superstitious: my mother had taught me better.

We had just started for home, but this gale blew us off our course. Soon
after, however, the wind shifted to the eastward, and so kept, for the
biggest part of the time, until we sighted Boston Lights. Jamie was
nearly well. Still he could not walk much. He was quite lame. The
skipper thought some of the small bones of the foot were put out. But
Jamie didn't seem to care anything about his feet. He was just as gay as
a lark, singing all day.

As soon as we caught sight of The Mountains, we ran up our flag. It was
about noon, and the skipper calculated on dropping anchor in the channel
by sundown, at the farthest. And so we should, but the wind hauled, and
we couldn't lay our course. Tacking is slow work, especially all in
sight of home. About ten o'clock in the evening we made Wimple's Creek.