njoyment, and then
answered me with genial condescension: "In due order, Jack, I reply that
I am Dr. Cuthbert, surgeon to His Majesty's frigate _Belligerent_, of
whose crew you are a member."

I stared at him, my memory still in that gray mist. Seeing my
bewilderment, he was thoughtful enough to explain: "You were so foolish
as to resist, my man, when Midshipman Hepburn impressed you. Either the
blow which stunned you, or the close air of the forecastle, or the seeds
of disease in your system, brought on a fever and delirium in which you
have lain for the past fortnight."

"Fortnight!" I gasped. "But--I remember now--I must get to Vera
Cruz--Vera Cruz! Fortnight! What is the date?"

"August the ninth."

I groaned.

"Vera Cruz?" he cackled. "Why should you wish to go to Vera Cruz?"

I put my hand to my head, and tried to think--to penetrate that gray
mist. "I cannot remember--I cannot remember--only I know I must go--at
once--and it has to do with this cross."

"Eh! eh!" he cackled. "I thought there was something in that rosary.
Third mates of merchantmen do not usually go about with Romish
crucifixes and beads about their necks. Your name?"

I opened my lips, but not a syllable came from them. I racked my brains,
groping in that terrible mist of oblivion. It was in vain. I could not
remember my own name!

"Eh! eh!" he murmured, when I told him the dreadful truth. "You are in a
pretty pickle. I have known before of such cases, resulting from a crack
on the head. The famous John Hunter agrees with Jean Louis Petit that it
is due to a bloodclot on the brain, which, in favorable cases,
dissolves, and the patient becomes fully restored."

I stared, uncomprehending. I had forgotten Hunter and Petit; I had
forgotten all my learning--everything of my past life. I did not even
realize that I was a physician.

He went on cheerily: "So you have some little hope for a full return of
memory, Jack. In the meantime you will soon regain strength enough to
leave the sick bay. For your own good, let me advise you to obey orders
and do your duty, with no further attempts at vain and foolish
resistance to your superiors. Whether or not you are a British
subject,--which personally I strongly doubt,--you are entered in the
crew of the 'Belligerent,' and the iron rules of the Royal Navy deal
severely with the slightest infractions of discipline."

CHAPTER XXXIV

SHAME

It was another week before I recovered a fair s