"Nothing, nothing, shall be done, my poor boy," answered the captain, kindly. "You have been punished enough by not having been with us in the greatest battle ever fought on the sea. But it seems to me you have not entirely lost the game. You, too, have a prize in tow. How go your love affairs?" he whispered.
"Well, indeed, sir; the Lady Elizabeth is here, as you see. We are to be married at once, sir."
"You may have the chaplain of the Serapis for that purpose."
"Yes, sir. When he last officiated for me, he was reading my funeral service," replied O'Neill, smiling.
"Some people would say it's much the same thing," laughed the captain; "but we know better. Ah well, that's over now, thank God; and this lady--Madam," he said, turning to her, "I bade you welcome to a ship once before. It is a different ship now, but the welcome is just the same."
"Know you aught of Major Edward Coventry, Captain Jones?" cried Elizabeth. This time it was she who remembered.
"Why, he lies on the deck yonder, dying. He wouldn't let me take him below. Do you know--but I forgot, he was your friend."
"Take me to him!" she cried hastily, and in a moment she was kneeling by his side. They had made him as comfortable as possible with cushions and boat cloaks, but his hours were numbered. His head was thrown back, his face ghastly pale. Blood stained the linen of his shirt about his breast. His eyes were closed; the end was at hand.
"Poor fellow!" said O'Neill, in great sorrow, "he died for me;" and then he briefly recounted the circumstances of their escape to the astonished captain.
"Do you know how he was wounded, sir?" he asked.