Mr. Sherman was both disappointed and astonished; disappointed by the fruitless result of an inspection, the good effect of which he had counted upon, and astonished by this phenomenon of the utter extinction of the most life-giving faculty of the mind. He drew him to the boat again, and said: “See now; you were found there, lying under that seat, and beside the mast lay another man, a dark-faced man, dressed in sailor’s clothes. Do you remember?” “No.” “Look at those bags of biscuit. They were found soaking in the locker. Those bags contained all the food you had on board. You must have suffered horribly from the dread of starvation when you found the biscuit spoilt by the salt water. Recall your thoughts on making the discovery. Can you?” “No,” replied Holdsworth, pressing his hand to his head. “There was a black flag--a piece of stuff, a portion of a woman’s dress it seemed--fastened to the mast-head. Do you remember?” Holdsworth said “No.” “Had you a woman with you?” “I cannot tell.” “See if you can go farther back. Try to recollect where your ship sailed from. Was it England?” “England? Yes--I know England--but I do not remember if I came from England,” Holdsworth replied, with profound anxiety in his eyes. “Come! you remember England! Did you sail from Liverpool?” “I know Liverpool!” he exclaimed quickly. “And London?” “Yes! yes!” “And what was the name of your ship?” Holdsworth thought and thought without avail. Herein was the deception that misled Mr. Sherman: Holdsworth could perfectly remember familiar names, but they had to be pronounced in his hearing before he could recall them. In like manner he could tell the names and discourse of the things he beheld, _because he saw them_. Had Johnson lived, he would have known and called him Johnson. Had Mr. Sherman spoken of Dolly, of Southbourne, of the London Docks, of the “Meteor,” of any of the incidents connected with the “Meteor’s” loss, Holdsworth would have remembered exactly as much as he heard. But, in the absence of suggestion, his memory was powerless--absolutely helpless--to generate independent conclusions as to the impressions his mind had received previous to his rescue. The real miracle lay in _this_ contradiction--in the death of memory, dating _up to_ the moment of the swoon in the boat; in its resurrection to health and vigour, dating _from_ the moment of his recovery. He returned to the chair that had been placed for him near the skylight, and Mr. Sherman, still not despairing of arousing this dormant faculty, went below and returned with the parcel of things that had been taken from Holdsworth’s pockets. These were given him one by one, but he handled them without recognition. “But you know their names?” said Mr. Sherman. “Yes. This is a knife. This is a watch.” “They are yours; found in your pockets.”