nd saw a
gentleman I knew at once was the doctor of the ship.

"I know your story. You have told me a good deal about yourself while
you have been lying there," he remarked, in a kind voice. "I pity you
from my heart, and will do what I can for you."

"Thank you, sir, thank you," I answered warmly, and almost melting into
tears, for I was very weak. "Where are we? Where are we going? What
ship is this? Is Iffley here?"

"One question at a time, my lad, and you will have a better chance of an
answer, as a general rule," he answered, smiling.

He was a Scotchman, and as warm-hearted, generous a man as the north
ever produced, though somewhat peculiar in his manners. To a stranger
he appeared slow; but, when time would allow it, he knew the advantage
of deliberation.

"First, then, I will tell you that you are on board the _Albion_, and
that we have under our convoy a large fleet of merchantmen. We are
somewhere to the southward of Cape Finisterre. What you are thinking
about is, how you can write home to let your wife know what has become
of you. You'll very likely soon have an opportunity. Let that comfort
you." He said all this that he might break more gradually all that was
coming.

"But where are we going, sir?" I asked, in a trembling voice.

"You may perhaps have an opportunity of getting home," he answered.
"But you see, my lad, we are bound for the East Indies, and shall
probably have a somewhat long cruise of it."

"To the East Indies!" I cried, my voice sinking almost to a whisper.
"When, when, Margaret, may I ever meet you again?"

"Cheer up, my lad, it's a long road which has no turning, ye ken," cried
the kind doctor. "Remember your resolution to do your duty like a man.
You'll be well in a few days, I hope."

He did not reply to my question about Iffley. Somehow or other, I could
not bring myself again to repeat that man's name. I did not forget the
command to forgive our enemies, but I felt that flesh and blood--the
depravity of human nature--must be struggled with and overcome, before
the divine precept could be obeyed.

Once more I was on my feet again, and a man who attended on the sick
helped me up on deck. It was a fine day--the sky was blue, the sea was
calm, and some thirty ships, with all their canvas set, were grouped
close around us. They were huge lumbering tea-chests, as we used to
call Indiamen, but they were fine-looking craft for all that. The fresh
sea-breez