"We have not a moment to lose," said Morrison, the mate. "It is almost dark already, lads--very dark for a May night. A breeze in shore is coming on fast. Let's be off to the ship without delay." "But this poor fellow, sir." "Can't be left to die upon the beach. It would be clear murder, mates." "Let us take him aboard with us, and send him ashore with the first in-shore craft we overhaul after he gets his sea-legs." "In, in! Here comes the gale! Out oars! Shove off!" And thus Morley Ashton, still insensible, or completely stupefied and passive, in three minutes more was speeding over the rising waves, as fast as six oars could bear him, towards the unknown ship. CHAPTER XV. AN OLD SHIPMATE. For twenty-four hours after he was on board, Morley Ashton was alternately faint and delirious. His nervous system had been overstrained, and thus, for a time, he knew not where he was, by whom rescued, or by whom surrounded, and, at times, he still fancied himself on his awful perch above Acton Chine, and still in his ears he seemed to hear the roar of the waves and the screaming of the sea-birds. Meanwhile a heavy gale had sprung up, and the ship which sheltered him had been compelled to stand off to sea, pursuing her course south-south-west, and thus the land had vanished astern some seven hours before Morley recovered complete consciousness, and began to look curiously and inquiringly around him. Was he in a dream? Whence the strange and not unfamiliar odour of new paint and tar, and the close atmosphere, so undeniably that of a ship's cabin? Then there were the creaking of timbers, the jarring of all sorts of things, the swaying to and fro of a chained lamp, of a brass tell-tale compass, that swung in the skylight--the swaying, also, of berth-curtains on brass rods and rings, the rattle of racks and plates and dishes in an open locker, the clatter of blocks on deck, and the gurgling wash of water against the outer sheathing, with the jolting of the rudder, and the rasping of its chains. Aided by the gleams of uncertain radiance that came down the square skylight, and sometimes with prismatic hues through the yokes that were inserted in the planking of the deck, Morley looked around him, and became assured, beyond a doubt, that he was a-bed in the cabin of a ship under sail, and in no dream at all. At that moment footsteps were heard descending the companion ladder, and a seaman, muffled in a storm jacket and sou'-wester, both of which were shining with salt spray, approached the berth in which Morley lay. "Bartelot--Tom Bartelot! old friend and school-fellow," he exclaimed, with bewilderment, "where on earth did you come from?" "Not from among the clouds and gulls, as you did, Morley," replied the other, laughing. "And so--so you are beside me!" "Of course I am, and right glad to see you again, Ashton; but this is a queer business of yours, old fellow." "How?--why?--where am I?" "Aboard my ship, to be sure."