"Major, the Commandant has just experienced a great sorrow, which produced the terrible crisis he is suffering from at this moment. I confide this to you because a surgeon is like a confessor." "All right, my lad," the surgeon replied; "the Captain's secret has been trusted to sure ears." "I am convinced of that, Major; the officers and crew must suppose that the Captain has been thrown from his horse, you understand. I have already told the lieutenant so in making the report." "Very good; I will corroborate your statement, my lad." "Thanks, Major; now I have another thing to ask of you." "Speak." "You must obtain the lieutenant's leave that no one but Bowline and myself may wait on the Captain. Look you, Major, we are old sailors of his, he can say what he likes before us; and then, too, he will be glad to have us near him; will you get this leave from the lieutenant?" "Yes, my lad; I know that you are a good fellow, sincerely attached to the Captain, and that he places entire confidence in you; hence, do not feel alarmed--I will settle that with the lieutenant, and you and your companion shall alone come in here with me so long as the Captain is ill." "Thanks, Major; if an opportunity offers itself I will repay you this; on the faith of a Basque, you are a worthy man." The surgeon began laughing. "Let us return to our patient," he said, in order to cut short the conversation. In spite of the intelligent care the doctor paid him the Count's fainting fit lasted the whole day. "The shock was frightful," he said--"it was almost a congestion." It was not till night, when the frigate had been for a long time at sea, and had left Cadiz roads far behind it, that a favourable crisis set in, and the Captain became slightly better. "He is about to regain his senses," the doctor said. In fact, a few convulsive movements agitated the Count's body, and he half-opened his eyes; but his glances were wild and absent; he looked all around him, as if trying to discover where he was, and why he was thus lying on his bed. The three men, with their eyes fixed on him, anxiously watched this return to life, whose appearance was anything but reassuring to them. The surgeon, more especially, seemed restless; big forehead was wrinkled, and his eyebrows met, through the effort of some internal emotion. All at once the Count hurriedly sat up, and addressed Michael, who was standing by his side. "Lieutenant," he said to him, in a quick, sharp voice, "let her fall off a point, or else the Spanish vessel will escape--why have you not beat to quarters, sir?" The surgeon gave Michael a sign. "Pardon, Commandant," the latter replied, humouring the sick man's fancy, "we have beaten to quarters, and the tops are all manned."