a. The ship in which we
sailed tossed like a cork, while the waves, foam-crested, hurled
themselves furiously on our bark. A great panic seized the ship's crew,
and they gave themselves up for lost. But for myself I had no fear. A
great benign influence was around me, and I felt as safe as a babe
rocked on its mother's breast, while the wild winds that roared seemed
as sweet as the lullaby of a mother to a tired child.

For a long time the darkness continued, and then, when all hope seemed
to have departed from the ship's crew, I saw a twinkling light. Then I
felt rough hands around my body, while evil eyes gleamed; but I still
saw the love-light shining from my mother's eyes, and I heard a voice
saying, "He must not suffer harm."

Then all was a perfect blank.

* * * * *

When I awoke to consciousness I found myself in a small room. It was
dimly lighted, and the air seemed cold and clammy. As my eyes became
accustomed to my surroundings I saw that the walls were rough and
unplastered. Above my head were huge beams, covered with thick, unplaned
boards. Only one window was in the room. It was very small, and through
the glass I could see iron bars. The window, I judged, was eighteen
inches wide, and perhaps two feet high.

I was lying on a bed which was made of rough deal, and had evidently
been knocked together hurriedly. But the clothes were clean and dry.
Beside me was a table on which was a basin and some cups.

"Where am I, and how did I get here?" I asked myself.

For some time I had no remembrance of the past. Then events came to me
in a dim, vague way. I remembered the letter which I thought was written
by Naomi, and my journey to Pendennis Castle. But it seemed a long way
off. It might have been years; I could not tell.

I tried to lift myself from my bed, but I could not, I was too weak. I
looked at my hands; they were white like a woman's, and very thin.

"I must have been ill," I said; "but why am I here, and where am I?"

I listened intently, but all was silent as death. I longed for human
voices, but I could hear none. No sound reached me but the roar of
distant surf, but it was a strangely muffled sound.

"I am by the sea somewhere," I muttered; "but where?"

Then my heart gave a bound, for I heard the echo of distant footsteps.
They sounded strangely, just as one's footsteps sound at night when
walking through an empty church. They came nearer and nearer, until