"I only speak the truth, my man," said the visitor. "I have seen a great deal, and Captain Revel has told me more, about what a faithful servant you have been to him. Do all you can to comfort him, for he is terribly changed."

The tears were in old Solly's eyes, and there seemed to be a kink in his throat, as he said huskily:

"Awful, sir. I was a-saying on'y the other day, when the skipper was wherriting hisself about losing a few salmon, and raging and blowing all over the place, that he wanted a real trouble to upset him, and that then he wouldn't go so half-mad-like about a pack o' poachers working the pool. But I little thought then that the real bad trouble was coming so soon; and it has altered him, sewer-ly. Poor Master Nic--poor dear lad! Seems on'y t'other day as I used to carry him sittin' with his little bare legs over my two shoulders, and him holding on tight by my curly hair. Yes, sir, you look; it is smooth and shiny up aloft now, but I had a lot o' short, curly hair then, just like an old Calabar n.i.g.g.e.r's. And now, on'y to think of it."

"No, don't think of it, my lad, for we are not certain, and we will not give up hope. There, good-bye, Solly, my man. Shake hands."

"Shake--hands, sir--with you, cap'n?"

"No, not with the captain, but with the man who looks upon you as an old friend."

The next minute Solly was alone, rubbing his fist first in one eye and then in the other, twisting the big bony knuckle of his forefinger round so as to squeeze the moisture out.

"Well now," he said, "just look at that! What an old fool I am! Well, if I didn't know as them there drops o' mystur' was 'cause o' my poor lad Master Nic, I should ha' thought it was all on account o' what Cap'n Lawrence said. 'Friend!' he says. Well, I like that. I s'pose it's 'cause I've allus tried to do my dooty, though I've made a horful muddle on it more'n once."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT.

The next time the doctor came below to see his patients he examined Pete Burge.

"Humph!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Lucky for you, my man, that you have such a thick skull. You'll do now; but you've had a narrow escape. There, you can go up on deck every day a bit, but keep out of the sun; it's very hot, and getting hotter. It will do you more good than stopping down in this black hole."

"Thank ye, master," said Pete; and he lay still in his hammock, waiting for the doctor to go on deck before getting out and beginning to dress.

"Look here," said the doctor; "you are not off the sick-list yet, and you will come down and look after this lad till he is fit to go up.-- Well, how are you, my lad?--Hold that light closer," he continued, turning to his a.s.sistant. "Humph! fever stronger.--Has he been talking to you--sensibly?"

"Yes, zir," replied Pete. "A good deal muddled at first, but he began asking questions at last."

"What about?"

"Didn't know how he come here, and I had to tell him."

"Yes! What then?"

"Give a zort of a groan, zir, and been talking to hisself ever zince."

"Humph! Poor wretch," muttered the doctor, and he gave some instructions to his a.s.sistant before turning once more to Pete:

"Look here, you had better stay with your mate when you are not on deck.

If he gets worse you can fetch me."

"Where shall I find you, zir?" asked Pete.

"Ask one of the men."

Pete began to dress as soon as he was alone, and found that it was no easy task on account of a strange feeling of giddiness; but he succeeded at last, and stepped to Nic's hammock and laid a cool hand upon the poor fellow's burning brow. Then he went on deck, glad to sit down right forward in the shade cast by one of the sails and watch the blue water whenever the vessel heeled over.

The exertion, the fresh air, and the rocking motion of the ship produced a feeling of drowsiness, and Pete was dropping off to sleep when he started into wakefulness again, for half-a-dozen men came up a hatchway close at hand, with the irons they wore clinking, to sit down upon the deck pretty near the convalescent.

Pete stared as he recognised Humpy Dee and five other partners in the raid.

"There, what did I tell you?" said the first-named, speaking to his companions, but glaring savagely at Pete the while. "There he is. I allus knowed it. He aren't in irons. It was his doing. Give warning, he did, and they brought the sailor Jacks up. It was a regular trap."

"What do you mean?" said Pete wonderingly.

"What I say. I always knew you'd turn traitor and tell on us."

"You don't know what you're talking about," cried Pete. "Look here, lads."

The men he addressed uttered a low growl and turned from him in disgust.

"Oh, very well," said Pete bitterly; "if you like to believe him instead of me, you can."

"I told you so," went on Humpy Dee, whose countenance looked repulsive now from a patch of strips of sticking-plaster upon his forehead; "and he says I don't know what I'm talking about."

"That's right," said Pete; "you don't."

"Maybe; but I do now. Look ye here, Pete Burge; it's your doing that we're here. Nearly the whole lot on us took--there, you can see some of 'em sailors now. Pressed men. They took the pick of us; but we're not good enough, we're not, while you're to be a bo'sun, or some'at o' that sort, you expect. But you won't, for, first chance I get, Pete Burge, I'm going to pitch you overboard, or put a knife in your back; so look out."

"You don't know what you're talking about," said Pete again, for nothing better occurred to him; and as the charge seemed to have gone home for truth with the other unfortunates, one and all embittered by sickness, injuries, and confinement in irons below deck, Pete sulkily did as they did, turned away, confident that Humpy Dee's threat would not be put in force then; for a marine was standing sentry over them, till the men in irons were marched below, Pete finding that, as one on the sick-list, he was free to go up or down when he liked.

During the next fortnight the man puzzled himself as to what was to become of them. He had seen others of his companions often enough, going about their duties; but every one turned from him with a scowl of dislike, which showed that the charge Humpy had made had gone home, and that all believed he had betrayed them.

The consequence was that he pa.s.sed much of his time below decks, and preferred to come up for his breath of fresh air after dark, pa.s.sing his time beside Nic's hammock, thinking what he ought to do about him, and making up his mind what it was to be as soon as the poor fellow grew better and fully recovered his senses.

"I'll tell the doctor then," he said to himself. "There's no good in telling him now, for if I did they'd take him away and put him in a cabin, where it would only be lonezome for him and for me too; and no one would wait on him better than I do."

But Nic did not get better, as Pete wished, nor yet as the doctor essayed to make him.

"It has got on his brain, poor fellow," said that gentleman one day, when the patient was able to walk about, apparently nearly well, but his mind quite vacant. He talked, but the past was quite a blank.

"But he'll get it off, won't he, zir?" said Pete, who felt the time to speak had come.

"Some day, my lad. I dare say his memory will come back all of a sudden when he is stronger and better able to bear his trouble; so perhaps it's all a blessing for him in disguise."

There was so much in this that Pete felt that it was not the time to speak yet.

"What good can it do him till he can think?" he said to himself. "It will only be like me losing a mate as can be a bit o' comfort, now every one's again' me. I mean to stick to him till he can speak out and tell 'em as I didn't inform again' the others."

So Pete held his tongue, and being so much below, was almost forgotten, save by the men of the watches who had to bring the two sick men their rations; and finally he left it till it was too late. For he awoke one morning to find that they were in port in a strange land, and in the course of the morning the word was pa.s.sed to him and his unfortunate companion to "tumble up."

"Here, master," he said to Nic; "you're to come up."

Nic made no objection, but suffered himself to be led on deck, where he stood, pale and thin, the wreck of his former self, blinking in the unwonted light, and trying to stare about him, but in a blank way, ending by feeling for and clinging to Pete's arm.