They carried the poor man into the cottage, and tried every means in their power to revive him; but Amy had nothing better than a little elder wine to give him. This she hastened to warm; and James ran to the town to borrow or buy a little brandy, and to get medical assistance. He soon procured the liquor; but the doctor was so busy attending other sufferers who had been washed ashore, that he could not leave them. James thought it best to return quickly with the spirits; and he had the pleasure to see the person they had saved sitting in the chimney-corner; and after he had taken the brandy which James had brought, he seemed considerably revived.
It was not till he was out of danger that the kind cottagers remarked that the dress and appearance of their guest were far above those of a common seaman. Amy had put him on some dry clothes, which were more comfortable (though very coarse) than his dripping garments; and on holding up the latter to dry, an elegant watch fell from one of the pockets. This she hung up before the fireplace; and soon afterwards the weary stranger retired to rest, the brothers having cheerfully given up their bed, and slept that night on a heap of old nets and sea-weed in the cow-shed.
Early in the morning, the doctor came to visit the shipwrecked stranger, and brought with him one of the sailors, who had got safe to land in the other boat. As soon as they entered the cottage, the seaman cast his eyes on the uniform that hung at the fire, and eagerly asked if the owner of it were alive. He was informed that he was alive, and likely to do well; but that he was then asleep.
"Then the storm has spared one of the bravest captains in his Majesty's fleet," said the sailor.
"What! is he a sea-captain?" asked Michael.
"Yes," answered the sailor: "our brave Captain Lucas."
A voice from the inner room now called, "Is that you, Tom?"
"Yes, your Honour," said the sailor, who immediately recognised the voice of Captain Lucas, his commander. Captain Lucas called the sailor to him, and asked, with much anxiety, how many of the ship's company were lost? "Only ten," said he; "the long-boat came safe ashore; and several of those in the boat with you were picked up by the good town's-people. We thought all night that you were lost: it would have been a bitter loss to us, Captain; for you are, indeed, the sailor's friend. It was a dreadful sight for us to see your boat go down; but your Honour knows that we all begged you to go in the long-boat, for we said the other could not live in such a sea."
"Well, Tom," said the Captain, "mine was but a single life; most of you were fathers and husbands. I am thankful that so many have been spared; and, as for myself, I could not have fallen into better hands. Mind and get a good Christmas dinner, you and your messmates, to cheer your poor hearts; I'll be at the expense: thank God! I have enough to spare a few comforts for my brave sailors, after all their sufferings."
Tom, having made a sailor's acknowledgment, hastened to the town to tell his messmates the joyful news, that their noble captain was saved.