"Well, I bain’t," repeated Warren, as soon as he could be heard. "I ’ve been here in this prison for seven months, and it’s a good deal worse ’n layin’ at home in Old Fields bur’in’ ground, right in sight o’ the river ’n all’s a-goin’ on. Tell us where you come from, sir, as soon ’s you feel able, and how long you are from Barvick! We get no sort of news from the folks. I expect you can’t tell me whether my old mother ’s livin’?" The poor man tried hard to master his feelings, but his face began to twitch, and he burst out crying suddenly, like a child. "Looks like they’ve all gone and forgot us," said a patient, pale-faced fellow who stood near. Wallingford was himself again now, and looked with dismay at those who looked at him. Their piteous pallor and hungry-eyed misery of appearance could give but little sense of welcome or comfortable reassurance to a new captive. He was as poor as they, and as lacking in present resource, and, being weak and worn, the very kindness and pity of the arms that held him only added to his pain. "If I had not come the last of my way by sea," he told them, trying to speak some cheerful hope to such hopeless souls, "I might have got word to London or to Bristol, where I can count upon good friends," but some of the listeners looked incredulous and shook their heads doubtfully, while there were those who laughed bitterly as they strolled away. "Have you any late news from Captain Paul Jones?" he asked, sitting straight now, though Warren still kept a careful arm behind him. "I was at Whitehaven with him; I belong on the frigate Ranger," and his eyes grew bright and boyish. "They say that one of her own officers tried to betray the ship," sneered a young man, a late comer to the Mill Prison, who stood looking straight into poor Wallingford’s face. "’T was true enough, too," said Roger Wallingford frankly; "it is by no fault of mine that you see me here. God grant that such treachery made no other victim!" "They say that the Ranger has taken a mort o’ prizes, and sent them back to France," announced the Newbury sailor. "Oh, Lord, yes, she’s scared ’em blue ever sence that night she went into Whitehaven! She took the Drake sloop o’ war out o’ Carrickfergus that very next day." "I knew there was business afoot!" cried the lieutenant proudly; but he suddenly turned faint again, and they saw a new bright stain strike through the clumsy bandages on his shoulder. *XXXII* *THE GOLDEN DRAGON* "Give where want is silently clamorous, and men’s necessities, not their tongues, do loudly call for thy mercies."