The voyage home to Hester and Bessy seemed like a glimpse of heaven, for Hester was ever by the latter’s side, striving hard to make her forget the past, and revelling in her loving, grateful looks; while Bessy, though no words passed, knew that Meldon loved her with all his heart, though for her sake and lest he should arouse the jealous susceptibilities of her brother, he maintained silence. But she knew that the day must come when he would speak, and her heart leaped with joy as she saw his patient assiduity in attending to her brother, who now turned daily more and more towards him, and sought his help.
But the presence of two sick men was not without its influence on the little crew of the ship, and Captain Studwick, looked with nervous dread for what he saw must come ere long, and felt that the events might again be looked upon as an ill omen.
For though Mr Meldon said it not in so many words, he gave him fully to understand that poor John Studwick’s days were growing very few.
In fact the doctor felt that it was an open question whether Lauré or John Studwick would be the first to leave them, for the former seemed never to have recovered from the shock of his descent, but lay in a helpless, raving state, evidently growing weaker day by day, till, in place of getting up to sit and watch the sea from the cabin window, he now rarely rose, and then only with the assistance of old Rasp, who, as a kind of recompense for being the cause of his state, constituted himself his nurse, and waited on him night and day.
“I hate him like the very old ’un,” growled Rasp, when talking about him to Oakum; “but as I’ve had my bit of a go at him for what he did, I ain’t going to see him die like a dog for want of help.”
And so the days glided on till the schooner, with her freight of silver, was in mid-ocean, and still the fates favoured them. It was a lovely evening, and the sun was descending fast in the west, turning the sea into one heaving mass of orange and gold. Nearly every one was on deck—Mr Parkley and the captain together talking of the future of the voyage, and Mr Wilson seated with his chin resting on his hand gazing pensively at Bessy, who was kneeling beside the mattress on which her brother lay, his great eyes looking towards the golden-flooded sky. Dutch and Hester, too, were together, silent and thoughtful, while the solemn grandeur of the scene seemed to impress even the men forward, for they sat about the deck almost without a word.
It was with quite a start, then, that Dutch saw the doctor come up softly from below and approach him with a solemn look upon his face.
“Is anything wrong?” said Dutch, though he almost read what the other had to say.
“Your enemy will soon be powerless to work you evil, Mr Pugh,” was the reply; “he is dying, I think, fast.”
Hester shuddered and clasped her husband’s arm.