“Stop, master, stop, if you don’t want to kill the boy outright,” said Roberts, one of the crew, stepping forward, while the hot flush of indignation burned through his tanned and weather-beaten cheek. The sailors called him “Softy Bob,” from that half-gentleness of disposition which had made him, alone of all the men, speak one kind or consoling word for the proud and lonely cabin-boy. “Undo him then, and be--,” growled the skipper and rolled off to drink himself drunk. “I doubt he’s well-nigh done for him already,” said Roberts, quickly untying Eric’s hands, round which the cords had been pulled so tight as to leave two blue rings round his wrists. “Poor fellow, poor fellow! it’s all over now,” he murmured soothingly, as the boy’s body fell motionless into his arms, which he hastily stretched to prevent him from tumbling on the deck. But Eric heard not; and the man, touched with the deepest pity, carried him down tenderly into his hammock, and wrapped him up in a clean blanket, and sat by him till the swoon should be over. It lasted very long, and the sailor began to fear that his words had been prophetic. “How is the young varmint?” shouted the skipper, looking into the forecastle. “You’ve killed him, I think.” The only answer was a volley of oaths; but the fellow was sufficiently frightened to order Roberts to do all he could for his patient. At last Eric woke with a moan. To think was too painful, but the raw state of his back, ulcerated with the cruelty he had undergone, reminded him too bitterly of his situation. Roberts did for him all that could be done, but for a week Eric lay in that dark and fetid place, in the languishing of absolute despair. Often and often the unbidden tears flowed from very weakness from his eyes, and in the sickness of his heart, and the torment of his wounded body, he thought that he should die. But youth is very strong, and it wrestled with despair, and agony, and death, and, after a time, Eric could rise from his comfortless hammock. The news that land was in sight first roused him, and with the help of Roberts, he was carried on deck, thankful, with childlike gratitude, that God suffered him to breathe once more the pure air of heaven, and sit under the canopy of its gold-pervaded blue. The breeze and the sunlight refreshed him, as they might a broken flower; and, with eyes upraised, he poured from his heart a prayer of deep unspeakable thankfulness to a Father in Heaven.