"Oh, yes; he thinks we shall meet a ship or two between now and noon--we 'most always do, you know"--rolling his quid slowly, and hesitating for a while; "keep heart, keep heart! I had thought from your face you were stronger; besides, the pumps are doing good work in the hold: who knows what may come of it, who knows?" Alas! alas! I could not rise to the level of this dim hope. "Think of the burning crowd, the sheet of flame, the terrible destruction!" I murmured; "I must go now and apprise those poor wretches below that their time is short; they have a right to know." His vice-like hand was on my arm. "You do not go a step on such an errand," he muttered. "It is the captain's business; he will 'tend to it when the time comes, for he is a true man, and the bravest sailor on the line. He means to do what's right, never fear. It is my dooty to hold you here until he comes, onless you promise me to be discreet." "I shall be discreet, never fear--" and his grasp relaxed. I sped me back to the coil of rope on which I had left my young companion, intending to partake with her there my biscuit and orange, so needed now for strength. I found in her stead (for she had departed in the interval) a delicate-looking young woman, plain and poor, a widow evidently from the style of her shabby mourning and sad expression of face, bearing in her arms a weird and sickly-looking child, evidently a sufferer from spinal disease--an infant as to size, but preternaturally old in countenance. The steady gaze of its large and serious eyes affected me magnetically--eyes that seemed ever seeking something that still eluded them, and which now appeared to inquire into my very soul. "Is your little boy ill, madam?" I asked at last; and at the sound of my voice a smile broke over his small, sallow features, lending them strange beauty, but dying away instantly again into an expression of startled suspicion. "Yes, very ill," she answered, clasping him tenderly as he clung to her suddenly. "He has some settled trouble that no medicine reaches, and you see how small and light he is. Many a twelve months' babe is heavier than he, yet he is three years old come March next, and he is 'cute beyond his years, it seems to me." "You seem very weak and weary," I rejoined. "I noticed you yesterday with interest, sitting all the time with your boy on your knee. You must need exercise and rest. Go and walk now a little, while you can;" and I stretched my arms for her baby. To her surprise, evidently, he came to me willingly--attracted, no doubt, by the gleam of the watch-chain about my neck, and still further propitiated by a portion of my orange, which he greedily devoured. In the mean time the poor, pale mother took a few turns on the quarter-deck, and, disappearing therefrom a moment, returned with a small supply of cakes and biscuits which she had sought in the steward's room.