I bathed and bathed, and changed the water so as to get it a little cooler, though the rapid evaporation helped me most, and at last, to my great delight, his eyelids began to quiver, and finally he lay there staring at me wildly, and with his face terribly white. "Mr Frewen, do you know me?" I said. "Know you?--know you? Yes, of course," he said hoarsely. "What is the matter?--what has happened?" and his hand went to the back of his head. "You were hurt when the powder went off," I said, watching his face eagerly. "Don't you remember?" "Yes," he cried eagerly. "I threw myself back over the barricade with you." "And the door and all the boxes and chests were blown in and buried us, I think." "Was--was any one killed?" he said huskily. "I don't know; I think not," I replied. "But don't you know, boy?" he cried angrily. "No; I was hurt by the chests the same as you were, and don't know what happened. It was all like being in a dream till a little while ago." "Then you know nothing?" he said excitedly. "I only have a sort of misty recollection of lying there after the explosion, till I was carried out on deck and laid in the sun." Then I told him all about being like in a nightmare, and hearing them talk of throwing us both overboard, only Bob Hampton said we were alive. "The scoundrel!" he said bitterly. "Well, I thought it very jolly of him then," I said, "for if it had not been for him we should have--" I pointed downward. "Right to the bottom of the sea," I added. "Yes; and you seem to have been hurt." "Hurt? I should think I was, horribly," I cried; "but it don't seem so bad now, since I've been helping you." "But the passengers, Dale?" he said excitedly, as he tried to sit up, but sank back with a groan; "have you not heard anything whatever about them?" I shook my head. "Didn't you see anything to suggest that any one was killed and--and thrown overboard?" "No, Mr Frewen." "Go out then and make inquiries, my good lad," he said piteously; "this suspense is worse than the injury." "You forget," I said quietly. "Forget? What?" "That we are prisoners. I couldn't get out." "Yes, yes," he moaned. "I forgot. My head is all confused and strange. What's that?" "Some one knocking gently at the bulk-head," I whispered, for there were three gentle taps on the wooden partition just opposite to where I was kneeling. "Then there is some one else a prisoner," he cried. "Quick, speak to him." "Better not speak," I said; "we may bring in some of Jarette's gang;" and rising softly, I took out my pocket-knife, and gave three gentle taps with the haft just about the spot where we had heard the sounds. The moment I had done, two knocks came in answer, and when I had responded in the same way, there was one single one given which I also answered. "That only stands for some one being there," said Mr Frewen, with a sigh; "we have no code arranged by which we could communicate."