Chapter 5: Lunch with the Missionaries
I returned to my bed and slept well for a few hours. When I awoke, St. John was still lying beside me, fast asleep. I thought about Nathaniel's invitation to lunch, and I realized I felt much better. I still did not feel much like eating, but I was eager to escape the dim prison of my cabin. Changing into my other dress, I emerged from our tiny room and made my way carefully to the dining area, not yet having what Reginald laughingly referred to as my "sea legs."
As I had expected, Nathaniel and Reginald were seated at one end of the long table, eating heartily of the mess that sat on their plates. I was so hungry, dear reader, that these foods made my mouth begin to water. I had not realized how long it had been since I had eaten, and I hastened to join my fellow missionaries at the table. It wasn't until I was seated that either of the young men noticed my presence. They both smiled warmly.
"Good of you to join us," Reginald said with a smile that bordered on a smirk.
I chose to take it as it was meant, a friendly teasing and replied, "I am glad to be out of that stuffy room!"
"How is St. John?" Nathaniel inquired.
"He is still fast asleep," I sighed. "I am not sure this journey is really what is best for him."
The two young men looked at me curiously, and I realized I had spoken out of turn. It was not my place to comment on St. John's calling to his colleagues. He would not appreciate it if I told them that he was not cut out for the work; he believed he was and he was determined to make it work. I admired him for that, for we had both ignored what our hearts had advised us and left them in England, but he seemed to be faring better than I.
Remembering my indiscretion, I hurried to ask my two companions how they came to be involved in missionary work and the conversation turned to our upcoming work- more practical matters. We were having a pleasant discussion when St. John burst into the dining area, staggering and green faced. I rose to help him to the table, quite alarmed that he had not yet recovered.
"What's wrong with you, man?" Nathaniel cried.
"Nothing, nothing," St. John murmured, weakly waving his hand to dismiss the question. "I am sure when this storm settles down, I will be fine."
Nathaniel and Reginald were overcome with mirth, and I must confess, I felt a smile play upon my lips as well, for the weather outside was fair and sunny with hardly any wind. St. John demanded, as much as he could in his weakened state, us to tell him what was so humorous, so when Reginald had his laughing under his control, he said, "I am afraid that this is no storm, St. John. This is some of the calmest sailing you will ever see."
The look of astonishment on my husband's face was even more amusing than his earlier comment, but I dared not to laugh, knowing how St. John could be when he is made to look the fool. Reginald and Nathaniel, having none of my experience with St. John, began to chuckle again, but were soon silenced by the anger apparent on his face. St. John, anxious to shift the attention somewhere else, picked up some of the food on our plates, and rolled his eyes. "I don't feel as if I could ever eat again," he moaned. I doubted the situation was as pitiful as he was making it out to be, but I could tell he really was in pain, so I offered to escort him back to our cabin. Luckily, Nathaniel instead suggested a walk about the deck, which St. John agreed to, so we all left the table and walked out into the fresh sea air.
I returned to my bed and slept well for a few hours. When I awoke, St. John was still lying beside me, fast asleep. I thought about Nathaniel's invitation to lunch, and I realized I felt much better. I still did not feel much like eating, but I was eager to escape the dim prison of my cabin. Changing into my other dress, I emerged from our tiny room and made my way carefully to the dining area, not yet having what Reginald laughingly referred to as my "sea legs."
As I had expected, Nathaniel and Reginald were seated at one end of the long table, eating heartily of the mess that sat on their plates. I was so hungry, dear reader, that these foods made my mouth begin to water. I had not realized how long it had been since I had eaten, and I hastened to join my fellow missionaries at the table. It wasn't until I was seated that either of the young men noticed my presence. They both smiled warmly.
"Good of you to join us," Reginald said with a smile that bordered on a smirk.
I chose to take it as it was meant, a friendly teasing and replied, "I am glad to be out of that stuffy room!"
"How is St. John?" Nathaniel inquired.
"He is still fast asleep," I sighed. "I am not sure this journey is really what is best for him."
The two young men looked at me curiously, and I realized I had spoken out of turn. It was not my place to comment on St. John's calling to his colleagues. He would not appreciate it if I told them that he was not cut out for the work; he believed he was and he was determined to make it work. I admired him for that, for we had both ignored what our hearts had advised us and left them in England, but he seemed to be faring better than I.
Remembering my indiscretion, I hurried to ask my two companions how they came to be involved in missionary work and the conversation turned to our upcoming work- more practical matters. We were having a pleasant discussion when St. John burst into the dining area, staggering and green faced. I rose to help him to the table, quite alarmed that he had not yet recovered.
"What's wrong with you, man?" Nathaniel cried.
"Nothing, nothing," St. John murmured, weakly waving his hand to dismiss the question. "I am sure when this storm settles down, I will be fine."
Nathaniel and Reginald were overcome with mirth, and I must confess, I felt a smile play upon my lips as well, for the weather outside was fair and sunny with hardly any wind. St. John demanded, as much as he could in his weakened state, us to tell him what was so humorous, so when Reginald had his laughing under his control, he said, "I am afraid that this is no storm, St. John. This is some of the calmest sailing you will ever see."
The look of astonishment on my husband's face was even more amusing than his earlier comment, but I dared not to laugh, knowing how St. John could be when he is made to look the fool. Reginald and Nathaniel, having none of my experience with St. John, began to chuckle again, but were soon silenced by the anger apparent on his face. St. John, anxious to shift the attention somewhere else, picked up some of the food on our plates, and rolled his eyes. "I don't feel as if I could ever eat again," he moaned. I doubted the situation was as pitiful as he was making it out to be, but I could tell he really was in pain, so I offered to escort him back to our cabin. Luckily, Nathaniel instead suggested a walk about the deck, which St. John agreed to, so we all left the table and walked out into the fresh sea air.