Tom saw that her eye looked a little wild. He decided that he ought to inform Mr. Frisbone of her condition, though he hardly understood enough of such matters to determine whether any thing was the matter with her. While he was thinking of the case, he saw Miss Rodwood ascend a flight of stairs in the forward part of the cabin, leading to the hurricane-deck. He rushed out at the main entrance, and ran up the ladder. The lady was walking very fast towards the stern of the vessel. He concluded that she had come up to take the air; and she would certainly regard it as impertinent for him to follow her. He paused to consider what he should do. He saw O’Hara planking the main deck from the waist forward. He would speak to him, and ask him to send for Mr. Frisbone. He descended to the main deck, and hailed the captain. “I thought you had turned in, my boy,” said the captain lightly. “No: I thought I would stay up till you have communicated with the Tritonia,” replied Tom. “Have you noticed any thing strange about the young lady on board, O’Hara?” “Upon me sowl, I haven’t, except that she is as pretty a girl as I have set eyes on for seven years; and that’s saying a great dale,” answered the captain. “Don’t joke, please, just now, O’Hara. I think something ails the young lady; and I’m afraid it’s something serious,” added Tom. “You don’t mane it! What could ail a girl as pretty as she is?” Tom took five minutes to tell what he had observed in the cabin. “Is it crazy she is? Is that what you mane?” demanded O’Hara, not a little excited by the inference he drew from what his companion had said. “You needn’t call it by any such name as that. I believe she is an invalid; and, after all she has been through during the last twenty-four hours, it wouldn’t be very strange if she were a little out of her head. I don’t like to lose sight of her. There she is, walking up and down the poop-deck as though she were running a race with her own shadow. Will you send one of the watch down to tell Mr. Frisbone how it is with her, or ask him to come on deck without saying what is wanted?” “Troth, I’ll do so myself!” replied the captain, hurrying down through the engine-room. He had hardly disappeared before Miss Rodwood started to run with all her might towards the stern of the steamer. Tom Speers leaped up the ladder to the hurricane-deck in season to see her spring over the low railing into the sea. “Man overboard! man overboard! Stop her!” cried Tom at the top of his lungs; and they were not feeble lungs. He cut loose the life-buoy which was lashed to the railing, and threw it overboard. But Tom was not content with this action: he kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of his heavy pea-jacket and coat at the same moment, and plunged into the sea. CHAPTER VIII. THE VILLE D’ANGERS. “Help, help! Save me!” cried Miss Rodwood in the water, at some distance from Tom Speers.