came
delirious, and did not even know her.

"O, Noddy," exclaimed she, when she fully realized the situation of her
father, "I shall soon be alone."

"Don't give up, Mollie," replied the cabin-boy sadly.

"I have prayed till I fear my prayers are no longer heard," sobbed she.

"Yes, they are, Mollie. Don't stop praying," said Noddy, who knew that
the poor girl had derived a great deal of hope and comfort from her
prayers.

He had seen her kneel down when she was almost overcome by the horrors
which surrounded them, and rise as calm and hopeful as though she had
received a message direct from on high. Perhaps he had no real faith in
her prayers, but he saw what strength she derived from them. Certainly
they had not warded off the pestilence, which was still seeking new
victims on board. But they were the life of Mollie's struggling
existence; and it was with the utmost sincerity that he had counselled
her to continue them.

"My father will die!" groaned the poor girl. "Nothing can save him now."

"No, he won't die. He isn't very bad yet, Mollie."

"O, yes, he is. He does not speak to me; he does not know me."

"He is doing very well, Mollie. Don't give it up yet."

"I feel that he will soon leave me."

"No, he won't, Mollie. I _know_ he will get well," said Noddy, with the
most determined emphasis.

"How do you know?"

"I feel that he will. He isn't half so bad as Mr. Watts was. Cheer up,
and he will be all right in a few days."

"But think how terrible it would be for my poor father to die, away here
in the middle of the ocean," continued Mollie, weeping most bitterly, as
she thought of the future.

"But he will not die; I am just as sure that he will get well, as I am
that I am alive now."

Noddy had no reason whatever for this strong assertion, and he made it
only to comfort his friend. It was not made in vain, for the afflicted
daughter was willing to cling to any hope, however slight, and the
confident words of the boy made an impression upon her. The morrow came,
and the captain was decidedly better; but from the forecastle came the
gloomy report that two more of the men had been struck down by the
disease.

There were but three seamen left who were able to do duty, and Mr.
Lincoln, the second mate, was nearly exhausted by watching and anxiety.
Fortunately, the weather had been fine, and the Roebuck had been under
all sail, with a fair wind. Noddy had obtained a little sleep during the
second