“My friend wrote you,” he said, “how the accident occurred and how for hours we clung to the boat, which was being drawn rapidly out to sea. For a time I kept up bravely, though for myself I cared but little to live, life was so dark and hopeless to me then. But I remembered my mother, who would mourn for me, and made every possible exertion to hold on. When we were capsized I struck my head just over the temple upon some iron surface of the boat, and I know now that the blow was of itself almost sufficient to cause my death. As it was, I felt stunned and bewildered and my strength was fast failing me when my friend bade me try and reach him, as he thought he could help me. I remember reaching out one hand toward him, while I tried to change my position, but my foot was caught in something which, when I lost my hold and floated away from the boat, was also detached and floated with me. It was the grating from the bottom of the boat, and it proved my salvation, for, as I came to the surface after sinking once beneath the waters, I caught at it and clung to it desperately, while the waves carried me far away from my companion, who, seeing me go down, naturally supposed I must be drowned. Indeed, I do not myself know how I was saved, or had the strength to endure the horrors of that night and hold to my frail support as I did. “At last daylight broke over the waters, and a small vessel, bound for the southern coast of Africa, passed near me as I floated. I had then no power to signal them, my arms were so cramped and numb, but one of the sailors spied me, and a boat was at once lowered and sent to my rescue. How they got me on board I do not know, for all sense forsook me from the moment I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, and when next I awoke to a consciousness of anything, I was lying in a close berth, and a dark face was bending over me, speaking in a language I could not comprehend. But the voice was kind, and the face a good-natured one, and I remember thinking that I should be cared for until I reached some point where I could make myself understood. My head was paining me dreadfully, and was probably the cause of the weeks and months of partial insanity which followed. I had taken a frightful cold, a burning fever set in, and for days I raved like a madman, they told me afterward and made several attempts to throw myself into the sea. It was useless for them to ask me anything, as their language was gibberish to me, as mine was to them. But _one_ word they learned perfectly—it was on my lips so constantly—and that was your name. No matter what they said to me, I always answered Queenie, until every officer and common sailor in the boat knew the name, and could say it as well as I, though they little dreamed who the Queenie was I talked about so constantly.”