"How did he get overboard?"
"I don't know; the boat was hanging at the cranes, and we were sitting in her, when there was a shout, 'Man overboard!' While they were lowering us away, the boatswain sung out that it was Mr. Reed. I suppose he slipped. The ship was rolling very heavy, and everything covered with sleet. We never got sight of him at all, but pulled the way we thought he must drift."
The young man lay for three hours in the condition we have described, breathing regularly, but faintly, and manifesting no other signs of returning consciousness than a convulsive twitching of the eyelids. The captain hung over him with the greatest anxiety, making such outward application as he thought of use.
In three hours more, to his great delight, his patient was able to swallow; but it was not till nine o'clock the next morning, twelve hours after he was taken from the water, that he could speak, or reply to questions. Ascertaining where he was, and by whom rescued, he seemed greatly moved, and expressed the wish that he had perished rather than be carried to Marseilles, and become a French prisoner of war.
"Make yourself easy, sir," replied the captain. "I will cut my right hand off before I will deliver those who have come on board my vessel in distress into the hands of their enemies. I'll put you and your men into an English man-o'-war."
This frank declaration proved more efficacious than all the other remedies that had been administered. His pale cheeks flushed in a moment, the light of youth and vigor returned to his eyes, and, after eating, he got up, and put on his uniform, which the seamen had dried for him, and scoured the buttons. He then went on deck, and met the boat's crew, who manifested great pleasure at seeing him. He shook hands with them all, calling each man by name.
The weather now began to moderate fast. The reefs were shaken out, yards sent up, and all sail made upon the vessel. When, at length, the high lands of Marseilles, and Planier Island, ten miles from the city, came into view, and it was evident the coast was clear of blockaders, the brigantine was hove to. A very strict watch was kept during the night; and, just as the sun rose, the lookout at the mast-head sung out, "A sail to leeward!" The mate went aloft with the glass, and reported that it was an English man-o'-war.
"She is beating back to her station," said the captain. "We'll get our breakfast while she is working up."
The midshipman, somewhat surprised at the coolness of the captain, said, "You have great confidence in the sailing qualities of your vessel, captain."
"I have reason for it, Mr. Reed," was the reply. "Indeed, if assured this wind would hold, I should not fear to lie here till she came nearly within gunshot."