e were
hid from his sight. My strength was now almost exhausted. I could
offer but a faint resistance. Hope, too, had abandoned me. Still I
tried to make myself heard, on the possibility of some one knowing me
and undertaking to carry a message to my uncle and aunt. People stopped
and looked, but the same idea occurred to all--my frantic gestures made
them believe that I was a miserable drunken sailor.

We reached the water's edge. I was shoved into a boat with several
other men who had been captured during the night. They all were sitting
stunned, or drunken, or sulky (or some too probably broken-hearted and
miserable), at the bottom of the boat, not exchanging a word with each
other or with those who had pressed us. I also fell down stunned and
unconscious. Who could have discovered the difference between me and my
companions in misfortune? When I again opened my eyes, I found that the
boat was almost at Spithead. I tried to sit up to look about me, but I
could not, and, after a feeble attempt to rise, I again sank back, and
once more oblivion of all that had passed stole over my senses. I had a
sort of dreamy feeling that I was lifted up on the deck of a big ship,
and then handed below and put into a hammock. Then I was aware that
some one came and felt my pulse and gave me medicine, but I had no power
to think, to recollect the past or to note the present.

At last, by degrees, I found that I was becoming more alive to what was
taking place. I felt the movement of the ship. She was heeling over to
a strong breeze. Then suddenly the recollection of my wife, of the way
I had been torn from her, of the wretchedness I knew she must suffer, of
the uncertainty she must feel for my fate, burst like a thunder-clap on
me, and almost sent me back into the state from which I was recovering.
I groaned in my agony. I wished that death might kindly be sent to
relieve me of my misery. But the instant after I felt that such a wish
was impious.

I lay quiet for some time, thinking and praying that strength might be
given for my support. No, no, I'll try to live, that I may get back to
comfort her. What joy it would be once more to return to her! The very
contemplation of such an idea revived me. "Whatever comes, I'll do my
duty like a man."

"That's right, my lad; that's the proper spirit in which to take our
misfortunes," said a voice near me.

Unconsciously, I had spoken aloud. I turned round my head, a