When I awoke again I had sense to know what caused this, and where I was--in a berth on board ship. The noise which had so troubled me was that of the waves beating against her forefoot. The beams so close to my face formed the deck, the smoky light came from the ship's lantern swinging on a hook. I tried to turn. Some one came again, and with gentle hands arranged my pillow and presently began to feed me with a spoon. When I had swallowed a few mouthfuls I gained strength to turn. Who was this feeding me? The light was at her back and dazzled me. For a short while I took her for Petronilla, my thoughts going back at one bound to Coton, and skipping all that had happened since I left home. But as I grew stronger I grew clearer, and recalling bit by bit what had happened in the boat, I recognized Mistress Anne. I tried to murmur thanks, but she laid a cool finger on my lips and shook her head, smiling on me. "You must not talk," she murmured, "you are getting well. Now go to sleep again." I shut my eyes at once as a child might. Another interval of unconsciousness, painless this time, followed, and again I awoke. I was lying on my side now, and without moving could see the whole of the tiny cabin. The lantern still hung and smoked. But the light was steady now, and I heard no splashing without, nor the dull groaning and creaking of the timbers within. There reigned a quiet which seemed bliss to me; and I lay wrapped in it, my thoughts growing clearer and clearer each moment. On a sea-chest at the farther end of the cabin were sitting two people engaged in talk. The one, a woman, I recognized immediately. The gray eyes full of command, the handsome features, the reddish-brown hair and gracious figure left me in no doubt, even for a moment, that I looked on Mistress Bertram. The sharer of her seat was a tall, thin man with a thoughtful face and dreamy, rather melancholy eyes. One of her hands rested on his knee, and her lips as she talked were close to his ear. A little aside, sitting on the lowest step of the ladder which led to the deck, her head leaning against the timbers, and a cloak about her, was Mistress Anne. I tried to speak, and after more than one effort found my voice. "Where am I?" I whispered. My head ached sadly, and I fancied, though I was too languid to raise my hand to it, that it was bandaged. My mind was so far clear that I remembered Master Clarence and his pursuit and the fight in the boats, and knew that we ought to be on our way to prison. Who, then, was the mild, comely gentleman whose length of limb made the cabin seem smaller than it was? Not a jailer, surely? Yet who else?