“Poor laddie! I doot he’s gone. This will be sore news to send home.” This remark, coming to him as though from far away, was Mr. Hodgson’s first intimation that he was still alive. He recognised the skipper’s voice, and, opening his eyes, discovered that he was lying on the deck, surrounded by the entire ship’s crew, with the captain bending over him. He was in such frightful agony, however, that he promptly fainted away again, and did not recover consciousness for a week. He then found out that his leg was fractured in three places, and as the ship was three weeks’ journey from the nearest port, and there was no doctor on board, Mr. Hodgson experienced a long period of excruciating agony, and, in fact, thought that he was dying. [Illustration: “HE TRIED TO GRASP THE SAIL--MISSED IT--AND REALIZED THAT HE WAS FALLING!”] What doctoring he did get was of an exceedingly rough and ready description, and was provided by one of the fo’c’s’le hands who had at one time had his own leg fractured, and on the strength of this claimed to know all about broken bones. It may have been that he was specially gifted in this respect, or it may have been sheer luck, but he certainly made a very fair job of it, all things considered. Three weeks later, when _Her Majesty_ reached St. Pierre, after an exceptionally long passage out of ninety-eight days, a medical man was sent for at once, who was not at all satisfied with the methods of his unprofessional rival. In fact, he announced that Mr. Hodgson would never be able to walk again, and advised the immediate amputation of his injured limb. Mr. Hodgson, however, decided that if he was to return home at all he would do so as a whole man, and flatly refused his consent. Fearing that the operation would be performed against his will, he declined, for days together, to touch any of the food offered him, in case it should have been “doctored” and he would wake up minus his leg. After _Her Majesty_ had unloaded her cargo and taken another on board she sailed for home, and Mr. Hodgson went with her, but his troubles were by no means over, as the ship foundered in a gale and the crew took to the boats. As may well be imagined, Mr. Hodgson, in his enfeebled state, was in no fit condition for such an experience, and during the eight days’ journey in open boats that followed until the island of Santa Cruz was reached his sufferings were beyond description. Mr. Hodgson went to sea for a year or two after his accident, but as the unskilled treatment of his amateur doctor was not entirely successful the bones of his leg were never properly set. Although the limb was sound enough for all ordinary purposes it was not strong enough to stand the continual strain of a seafaring career, and he accordingly made a fresh start in life as an artist, with what success is well known to our readers.