'He was seized, shortly after leaving Cuxhaven, with rheumatism in the knees,' he answered; 'he cannot stand--cannot, indeed, stir either leg.' 'Why did he not get himself conveyed ashore for treatment?' 'He hoped to get better. We were to call at Swansea before proceeding to Porto Allegre, and if he had found himself still ill when he arrived there, it was his intention to procure another captain for the _Anine_, and remain at Swansea with me until he was able to return home.' 'Who had charge of the barque when she brought up in the bay?' I inquired, finding a sort of relief in asking these questions, and, indeed, in having somebody to converse with, for even my ten minutes of loneliness at the helm of that pitching and foaming vessel had depressed me to the very core of my soul. 'The carpenter, who acted as second mate.' 'Yes, I recollect some of our boatmen brought the news. Your chief mate broke his leg and was sent ashore. But did your father consent to the _Anine_ dropping anchor in so perilous a bay as ours--perilous, I mean, considering the weather at the time?' 'He was at the mercy of the man Damm--the carpenter, I mean,' he answered. 'The crew had refused to keep the sea: they said a tempest was coming, and that shelter must be sought before the wind came, and the carpenter steered the barque for the first haven he fell in with, which happened to be your bay. Our crew were not good men; they were grumbling much, as your English word is, from the hour of our leaving Cuxhaven.' 'But surely,' said I, 'the poor fellows who sprang out of the fore-rigging could not have formed the whole of the crew of a ship of this burthen.' 'No,' he answered; 'the carpenter and five men got away in one of the boats when they found that the barque was dragging her anchors. They lowered one boat, which filled and was knocked to pieces, and the wreck of it, I dare say, is still swinging at the tackles. They lowered the other boat and went away in her.' 'Did they reach the shore?' 'I do not know,' said he. 'They must have been a bad lot,' said I--'those who escaped in the boat and those who hung in the shrouds, to leave your helpless father to his fate.' 'Oh! a bad lot, a wicked lot!' he cried. 'They were not Danes,' he added. 'Danish sailors would not have acted as those men did.' 'Are you a Dane?' I asked. 'My father is,' he answered. 'I am as much English as Danish. My mother was an Englishwoman.' 'I should have believed you wholly English,' said I. 'Are you a sailor?' He answered, 'No.' I was about to speak, when he exclaimed: 'I am a girl!' Secretly for some time I had supposed this, and yet I was hardly less astonished than had I been without previous suspicion. 'A _girl_!' I cried, sending my sight groping over her figure; but to no purpose. She was absolutely indistinguishable saving her arms, which were dimly touched by the haze of the binnacle-light as they lay upon the spokes of the wheel.