among them. The officers of the
little garrison were very kind to me, and I was never in want of
society, as one or other was constantly by my bedside.

Notwithstanding this, as I got better I became more and more anxious to
receive news of the frigate, and began to wonder what had become of her.
Though I could not walk, I saw no reason why I should not return on
board. The doctor, however, was still of a different opinion; and I was
greatly disappointed when, on returning from the town one day, he told
me that she had come off the harbour, and that he had sent on board to
say that I was not yet fit to be moved, but would rejoin my ship by the
first opportunity after I was convalescent. I could only thank him for
his kindness, keeping my feelings to myself.

At length I was able to get out of bed, and walk with the assistance of
a crutch. Had the doctor and Larry not held me up, however, the first
time I made the attempt, I should have fallen down again. I felt just
as, I suppose, an infant does on his first trying to toddle. After this
I got rapidly better, and was soon able to join the officers in the
mess-room, and in a short time to throw away my crutches.

The first walk I proposed to take was into Savannah-le-Mer to inquire
about vessels proceeding to Port Royal. I was accompanied by Ensign
Duffy and Larry. With their help I got on better than I expected; and
though I didn't feel inclined to take a leap, I fancied that if put to
it I could run as well as ever.

We repaired to the house of Mr Ringer, who received us cordially, and
from him I learnt that a fine vessel, the _Princess Royal_, would sail
for Kingston the next day. He insisted on my remaining at his house,
promising to drive me back to the barracks in the evening, that I might
wish the kind doctor and my other friends there good-bye. We
accordingly returned as he proposed. It was a difficult matter to get
Larry away from his late companions, who seemed inclined to detain him
_vi et armis_, the men grasping his hands, and the black girls hanging
round him, many of them blubbering outright at the thoughts of parting
from the "lubly Irish boy dat play de fiddle,"--as for pronouncing his
name, that they found beyond their power.

The officers drank my health in overflowing bumpers, and had I not
remembered my uncle's advice, and prevented my own glass from being
filled, I should not have been in a fit state to present myself at Mr
Ringer's