isfy himself
that they had escaped damage; then closing it, he placed it under his
pillow, on which he sank down exhausted.

"Faith, I've had a narrow escape--but as this craft is bound to fair
Waterford, I must either quit her before she gets there, or take care
that none of my friends recognise me when I step on shore," he murmured
to himself. "However, my good genius may enable me to escape that
danger, as it has to scramble through many others. Strange that my life
should have been saved by Owen Massey--he does not know me, however; but
that is not surprising, as I am greatly changed since we were together.
Few traces remain about me of the slight youth I then was. I must be on
my guard not to betray myself to him, or he and his commander may take
it into their heads that their loyalty obliges them to deliver me over
to the Government. As long as they don't find out who I am, I shall
have no difficulty in making my escape, even though I am compelled to
set foot on shore in Waterford itself. I wish those fellows would bear
a hand and bring me some food--that and a night's rest will restore my
strength and enable me to consider what to do better than I now can. I
have run many a narrow chance of losing my life, but never was I nearer
to death than to-day--another hour or two on the raft would have
finished me, and then where should I have been? Bah! I must not allow
such thoughts to trouble me, or I shall become nerveless as a young
girl."

In spite of all his efforts the thoughts he dreaded would intrude on the
stranger's mind. He looked eagerly for the return of the seaman with
the promised food and grog. Dan, in the mean time, with the bundle of
wet clothes under his arm, had made his way forward to the caboose,
where Pompey was busy blowing away at his fire and trying to get his
kettle and a saucepan of broth to boil.

"Well, Dan, my jewel, who dis fellow just come on board? What you tink
about him?" asked Pompey.

"Faith, it's more than he thought fit to tell me," answered Dan. "All I
know is that he's a mighty fine-spoken gentleman, with a big purse of
gold in his pocket."

"In which pocket?" asked Pompey eagerly, taking up the jacket.

"You big thief, you don't think I am after laving it to your itching
fingers--no, no, Pompey, even if the gentleman himself hadn't taken it
out, he's been too long at sea not to guess pretty shrewdly that the
shiners would vanish if the purse found its way forr