“You need not be at all concerned about me, Captain Ringgold. I shall be all right as soon as I have had something to eat,” replied Louis. “I always have trouble when I go without my regular food; but I am not starving, and I am not in the least injured.” “Sparks!” called the captain, and a colored steward came out of his pantry at the summons. “This young gentleman is the owner of the steamer. Get him some of the soup we had for lunch as quick as possible.” Sparks bowed low to the owner, and then rushed out of the cabin to execute his mission. “Something not too heavy is best for you to begin upon. You need a little nursing before you can come out all right, my boy. I have to get underway now, and lay the course for Bermuda; but I will send Mrs. Blossom to look out for you, for you need a woman’s care,” added the captain. “Mrs. Blossom!” exclaimed Louis, astonished to hear the name of Uncle Moses’s housekeeper. “She is the stewardess of the steamer. I went to see Squire Scarburn yesterday to ask him to recommend a woman to attend to the wants of your mother, after we have recovered her. Mrs. Blossom, who is the widow of a sea-captain, and has been to sea, heard me, and volunteered her services, saying that she needed a sea-voyage to restore her health. The squire consented, and that is why she happens to be on board.” The captain called the woman, and then left the cabin. Mrs. Blossom was delighted to see another Parkite on board, and sorry to find him in such a feeble condition. While Sparks was setting the table for his lunch, Louis explained what ailed him, and what had caused it. The good lady was quite sure she could relieve him, and she went to the pantry, from which she presently returned with a potion in a glass. She insisted that he should take it, and he did so. It was very hot, and it warmed up his stomach at once. The owner seated himself at the table at the summons of the steward. The dishes and the table-ware were of the finest quality, and Louis was bewildered by the magnificence which surrounded him on all sides. In fact, he began to feel something like a millionaire after his late experience on the sandbank. The soup was very nice; but Mrs. Blossom would not permit him to take anything else, except some toast and some fancy biscuits. He ate heartily of the soup, and then he claimed he was entirely well. His pain was all gone, for his malady was that unpoetical one which old ladies call “wind in the stomach” when babies have it. He was burning with curiosity to see the magnificent craft of which he had become the owner, and of which he had not seen even the outside till he left the sandbank. “No, Mr. Belgrave; you must not go on deck yet. You must keep quiet for a little while at least, until you are sure you are quite well,” said the stewardess. “I am sure of it now, Mrs. Blossom. I am not a baby.”