“But I hear the water against the bends. Are we not still at anchor?”
“No, Sir, the second mate got the schooner under weigh as he found you were so ill.”
“And I have been ill twenty-one days! Why we must be near home?”
“We expect to make the land in a few days, Sir,” replied Ingram.
“Thank Heaven for all its mercies,” said I. “I never expected to see old England again. But what a bad smell there is. What can it be?”
“I suppose it is the bilge-water, Sir,” replied Ingram. “People who are ill and weak always are annoyed by it; but I think, Sir, if you would take a little gruel, and then go to sleep again, it would be better.”
“Well, I fear I am not very strong, and talking so much has done me no good. I think I could take a little gruel.”
“Then, Sir, I’ll go and get some made, and be back very soon.”
“Do, Ingram, and tell Mr Olivarez, the second mate, that I would speak to him.”
“Yes, I will,” replied the man, and he left the state-room.