d he made a
movement as if to carry the boy down to the cabin himself. Two or
three pairs of stout arms were ready to help him, and plenty of hearty
voices to assure him that the young gentleman would be all right;
they'd get his wet clothes off and let him sleep, he was bound to be
about done; he'd be all right in no time. And Godfrey fulfilled their
prediction by sinking into the sound healthy sleep of a tired boy, with
a dreamy sense of satisfaction that the _Mermaid_ and the despatches
were all safe. But the strange gentleman did not take the advice of
his hosts and follow the boy's example. All that night he spent awake
and watchful by Godfrey's side. He had had a good many hard hours in
his life, but none that seemed quite so long as those night hours in
the narrow cabin of the fishing smack, while the boat rocked on the
heaving Channel, and the swinging lamp over his head showed him the
sleeping face of the young sailor to whom the sound of wind and waves
was the most familiar lullaby. How he studied the still young face by
the uncertain light, trying to trace in the broad-chested sturdy
midshipman some memory of a white-faced eager little boy who had once
looked up wonderingly into his own sad eyes! And if he turned his eyes
from him for a moment, it was to decipher by the dim lamplight that
letter of Kiah's with the heading and the signature that were so
familiar. And when the agony of uncertainty grew almost unbearable, he
dropped his head in his hands by the boy's side with the half-stifled
murmur:

'If it might be--far, far beyond my deserving--but if it might be!'

He scarcely noticed how the grey light of dawn grew stronger about
them, how the gale dropped and the boat sped along before a steady
breeze, until Godfrey suddenly opened his eyes and looked up with the
puzzled wondering gaze that thrilled the watcher through and through
with vivid recollection.

'I know I'm not on board the _Mermaid_' he said, 'but I can't remember
how I came here, and what boat this is.'

'You are on board a fishing smack from Plymouth,' said the stranger,
struggling hard to speak calmly; 'you were picked up last night
clinging to some wreckage in mid-Channel.'

Godfrey's face brightened with quick understanding.

'I know, I know,' he said, 'and the papers are all right, and the
_Mermaid_ too. That's the last thing I remember. I feel as if I'd
been asleep for weeks. I wonder if I shall get long enough leave t