In ten minutes three men stood on the deck of the _Sparhawk_. Some one had hailed me in English to lower something. I had lowered nothing; but here they were on deck. They asked me a lot of questions, but I answered none of them. "Is your captain with you?" I said. They answered that he was not, that he was on the steamer. "Then take me to him," said I. "Of course we will," said their leader, with a smile. And they took me. I was received on the steamer with much cordiality and much questioning, but to none of it did I pay any attention. I addressed the captain. "Sir," said I, "I will be obliged to you if you will immediately cruise to the southwest and pick up for me a life-preserver with a little white flag attached to it. It also carries a message for me, wrapped up in a piece of oiled silk. It is very important that I should obtain that message without delay." The captain laughed. "Why, man!" said he, "what are you thinking of? Do you suppose that I can go out of my course to cruise after a life-preserver?" I looked at him with scorn. "Unmanly fiend!" said I. Another officer now approached, whom I afterward knew to be the ship's doctor. "Come, come now," he said, "don't let us have any hard words. The captain is only joking. Of course he will steam after your life-preserver, and no doubt will come up with it very soon. In the mean-time you must come below and have something to eat and drink and rest yourself." Satisfied with this assurance, I went below, was given food and medicine, and was put into a berth, where I remained for four days in a half-insensible condition, knowing nothing--caring for nothing. When I came on deck again I was very weak, but I had regained my senses, and the captain and I talked rationally together. I told him how I had come on board the _Sparhawk_, and how I had fallen in with the _La Fidélité_, half wrecked, having on board only a dear friend of mine. In answer to his questions I described the details of the communications between the two vessels, and could not avoid mentioning the wild hopes and heart-breaking disappointments of that terrible time. And, somewhat to my languid surprise, the captain asked no questions regarding these subjects. I finished by thanking him for having taken me from the wreck, but added that I felt like a false-hearted coward for having deserted upon the sea the woman I loved, who now would never know my fate nor I hers. "Don't be too sure of that," said the captain, "for you are about to hear from her now."