ood," he muttered.

"That's right," said the skipper. "You were a bit thirsty, I suppose.
Why, you will soon be ready to eat, but we mustn't go too fast; mind
that, Poole. Gently does it, mind, till he gets a bit stronger.--Come,
finish your tea.--That's the way. Now let me lay you down again."

This was done, and the boy's face wrinkled up once more.

"I am so weak," he said querulously.

"To be sure you are, my lad, but that will soon go off now. You've got
nothing to do but to lie here and eat and drink and sleep, till you come
square again. My boy Poole here will look after you, and to-morrow or
next day we will carry you up on deck and let you lie in a cane-chair.
You will be able to read soon, and play draughts or chess, and have a
fine time of it."

"Thank you; I am very much obliged," said the young midshipman warmly.
"I want to get well again, and I will try not to think, but there is one
thing I should like to ask."

"Well. So long as it isn't questions, go on, my lad."

"I want you to write a letter home, it doesn't matter how short it is,
about my having been ill--so long as you tell my mother that I am
getting better from my attack. Your son said when I asked him, that I
got it on the head, and I am afraid my mother would not understand that,
so you had better say what fever it was, for I am sure she'd like to
know. What fever was it, Captain? You might tell me that!"

"Eh, what--what fever?" said the skipper. "Ah, ah," and he gave a
peculiar cock of his eye towards his son, "brain-fever, my lad,
brain-fever. It made you a bit delirious. But that's all over now."

"And you will write, sir? I'll give you the address."

"Write?" said the captain. "Why not wait till you get into port? You
will be able then to write yourself."

"Oh, but I can't wait for that, sir. If you would kindly write the
letter and send it ashore by one of the men in your boat, it will be so
much better."

"All right, my lad. I'll see to it. But there, now. You've talked too
much. Not another word. I am your doctor, and my orders are that you
now shut your eyes and go to sleep."

As he spoke the skipper made a sign to his son, and they both left the
cabin, the latter bearing the empty cup.

CHAPTER FIVE.

AGHAST.

As the cabin-door closed Fitz lay back, trying to think about his
position, but he felt too comfortable to trouble much. There had been
something so soft and comforting about that te