"
"He will never be captain of a ship now?"
"Captain of a ship! Will he ever leave the bed of sickness he lies
on?"
"The bed of sickness! Is he ill? Oh, what have I done?"
"Is he ill? What! do you think my brother is made of iron? Out all
night with you--then off, with scarce a wink of sleep; then two days
and two nights chasing the _Combermere,_ sometimes gaining,
sometimes losing, and his credit and his good name hanging on it; then
to beat back against wind, heartbroken, and no food on board--"
"Oh, it is too horrible."
"He staggered into me, white as a ghost. I got him to bed: he was in a
burning fever. In the night he was lightheaded, and all his talk was
about you. He kept fretting lest you should not have got safe home. It
is always so. We care the most for those that care the least for us."
"Is he in the Indiaman?"
"No, Miss Fountain, he is not in the Indiaman," cried Eve, her wrath
suddenly rising again; "he lies there, Miss Fountain, in that room, at
death's door, and you to thank for it."
At this stab Lucy uttered a cry like a wounded deer. But this cry was
followed immediately by one of terror: the door opened suddenly, and
there stood David Dodd, looking as white as his sister had said, but,
as usual, not in the humor to succumb. "Me at death's port, did you
say?" cried he, in a loud tone of cheerful defiance; "tell that to the
marines!!"
CHAPTER XXII.
"I HEARD your voice, Miss Lucy; I would know it among a million; so I
rigged myself directly.
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