did. Exhausted by loss of blood and severe physical suffering, his

nervous system appeared to have completely broken down, and the incessant heave and roll of the ship distressed him almost beyond his powers of endurance.

"Oh! Chester," he said to me one day, "if I could but be on shore, I believe I should get better. It tires me out to lie here, hour after hour, watching the sway of the ship. And then it is so dreadfully hot here, although the stern-ports are always open. What I should like is to be on shore, in a nice large room, with the windows open and the sea- breeze rushing in, laden with the odour of flowers, and to lie and listen to the rustle of leaves, and watch the branches of the trees swaying in the wind, with the birds and butterflies glancing to and fro, and the sunlight glittering upon the water. I can't sleep now, with the tramping of feet overhead, the creaking of the bulkheads, and the everlasting wash of the sea sounding in my ears, but I believe I _could_ sleep then; and if I could sleep I feel that I should get better."

A day or two after he had said this, I went down to see him toward evening, and at the cabin-door I met the doctor just coming out.

"How is he this evening, doctor?" I inquired.

"Worse; very much worse. I am beginning to despair of him now. He is light-headed, and I question if he will recognise you," was the discouraging reply.

I went in and found the skipper himself standing by the cot, holding one dry burning hand in his, listening to the incoherent ramblings of the poor lad, and endeavouring to soothe him. Home scenes and incidents of school-days seemed to be uppermost in his mind at the moment that I entered, but soon afterwards his thoughts wandered away to the night of the attack.

"I must go, I _must_ go," he exclaimed in anxious tones; "if it be only to prove whether I _am_ a coward or no. Chester spoke _very_ kindly to me, but I believe he thinks I am afraid. It will be dreadful, I know-- the flashing cutlasses, the fierce thrust of pikes, and perhaps the fire of grape and canister. And there will be gaping wounds, and blood-- blood everywhere; and oh! the suffering there will be; I have read of it all--the burning, unquenchable thirst, the throbbing and quivering of agonised limbs, and the upturned glance of unendurable torture. How can I possibly bear to look upon it all? And perhaps _I_ may be one of the wounded--or the slain. And if I am, what then? I do not care about pain for myself, I can bear it; but it is the sufferings of others that I dread to see. And if I am killed--why, I shall die doing my duty, and I am not afraid of death; I have never done anything that I need be ashamed of; I never did anything mean or dishonourable; I have always tried to be kind to every one; and I have read the Bible regularly which my poor dear mother gave me."

He paused a little. Then the tears welled slowly up into his eyes. "I am dying--I know it, though none of them have said so. I wonder whether my father will be sorry. He is a proud man and stern--very stern; I cannot remember that he ever kissed me, and I have never been able to tell whether he cares for me or no. But I believe he does--I _hope_ he does; and at all events, he need not be ashamed of me, for I have proved that I am no coward. My mother will grieve for me, though; it will break her heart and--oh!"

Here a violent flood of tears came to the poor boy's relief, and he sobbed as though his heart would break.

"Phew!" exclaimed the skipper. "This will _never_ do; he is too weak to bear this, I am sure. Run for Oxley, and tell him to come at once, Ralph; we must stop this at any cost."

I rushed out of the cabin, and returned in another minute with the doctor.

The poor boy was still sobbing occasionally, but he was crying more quietly now, and lying quite still in his hammock, instead of moving his limbs restlessly about as he had been.

The doctor leaned over the cot, felt his pulse, and laid his hand upon his patient's forehead.

"It is a dreadful tax upon his already exhausted strength," said the medico, "but I believe in the present case it has done good rather than harm. However, it will not do to risk a repetition of this sort of thing, so I will give him a mild opiate, although I would much rather not, in his present exhausted condition."

He leaned over the cot once more with his finger on the lad's pulse, and gazed long and anxiously in the pale, upturned face, as though revolving in his mind some weighty problem. Then, turning abruptly away, he left the cabin, beckoning me to follow.

As he was mixing the draught in the dispensary, he remarked,--

"If he can only last out until we reach Barbadoes, I believe we might save him yet; but it is this constant motion which is irritating his wound, and sapping his life. When do you think we shall get in?"

"To-morrow morning, if the breeze holds," I replied.

"Too late, I am afraid," said my companion, shaking his head. "The patient is in such a critical state that a few hours more or less may make all the difference between life and death to him. However, I will not give him up without a fight. Mr Stuart and I will watch him through the night, and perhaps you could arrange to stay with him through the dog-watches, could you?"

"Assuredly," I replied. "I will speak to Mr Flinn about it, and I am sure he will excuse me."

"Very well, then; that's arranged," said the doctor. "Now run away with that draught. If the poor boy is still agitated, give it him at once; if not, keep it by you for the present."

I returned to the cabin, and found that little Six-foot had stopped crying, and seemed disposed to sleep, so I put the bottle in a place of safety, and whispered to the skipper the doctor's arrangement.

"All right," he returned. "You remain here. I must go on deck now; and I will mention to Flinn that you will not be on deck during the dog- watch."

He stole out on tiptoe, and I was alone with my patient. I settled myself in a low chair near the cot, and looked out through the stern- port. The sun was just setting, and the western sky glowed with the same gorgeous colouring which it had worn on the evening of the funeral. The sight reminded me of the sad incident, and I wondered whether we were to have a sadder one yet. I sat for some time lost in mournful thought, when there was a slight stir in the cot, and I heard little Fisher's voice say weakly--

"Is that you, Ralph, sitting there? It is so dark I can scarcely make you out."

"Yes, it is I," I answered cheerfully. "How are you now, Six-foot? You have had a bit of a snooze, have you not?"

"I believe I _have_ been dozing," he replied. "I seem _very_ weak, Ralph, and I have scarcely any feeling left in my legs. I fancy I shall not last many hours longer."

"Oh, nonsense!" I returned. "What has put that idea into your head? Why, we shall be in Carlisle Bay by sun-rise to-morrow; and then, if you are strong enough to bear removal, you can have your wish as to going on shore, you know. And once there, you will _soon_ pull round, old fellow. No more rolling and knocking about then, Harry; no more groaning bulkheads; but the quiet and coolness that you have been longing for, with the sea-breeze, and trees, the birds and butterflies, and tender women to nurse and pet and make much of you, instead of us clumsy people. Only think of it! Why, by this time to-morrow you will feel so much better for the change that you will be wanting to sit up in bed--or even to turn out, perhaps."

"Oh, no, no," he replied. "I am far worse than you seem to think, Ralph. Still, I believe I _might_ pull round even yet, if I could but get ashore."

"Well, look here," said I. "If you are to be moved to-morrow, it is of the greatest importance that you should have a _good_ night's rest to- night, so try, like a dear good fellow, to get to sleep again, will you? Do you feel thirsty?"

"Rather," he replied. "But I seem to want something different from that stuff that the doctor has mixed for me. If I could only get a little fruit now--a bit of one of those pines you brought on board at Kingston, for instance--I believe it would refresh me more than anything else."

"Would it?" said I; "then you shall have it; that is, if the doctor will allow it; for now that you speak of it, I know the skipper has one or two pines left, and I am certain you will be heartily welcome to them. Do you mind being by yourself for a minute or two, while I run to the doctor, and speak to him about it? All right; I will be back in a second."

The doctor saw no objection, so we soon had a splendid pine sliced up, and I held a thin piece to the poor little sufferer's lips. It refreshed him greatly, and after another draught of the acid mixture he settled down more comfortably than he had been at all. When I turned him over to the doctor at last and left the cabin, there seemed to be some slight improvement in his condition.

In the early dawn of the following morning we anchored in Carlisle Bay, Barbadoes, and by noon poor little Fisher had been safely conveyed on shore and lodged in the colonel's residence near Needham Point, where he would have all the ladies belonging to the garrison to nurse him, and be conveniently situated for frequent visits from the staff-surgeon.