Mark went softly to the cabin-door and tapped.
The door was opened softly by Mrs Strong, who held up her hand and then pointed to where Mary O’Halloran lay fast asleep, while her mother was seated by the berth, her head fallen sidewise and resting against her child. Soldier’s wife and daughter, they were so inured to peril and anxiety that these did not hinder them from taking necessary rest, and being ready for the troubles of the day to come.
There was a tender embrace, a kiss, and Mark stole away once more to return to his father, whom he found seated on a locker faint and exhausted from his injury.
“It’s a hard fight, Mark,” he whispered hoarsely; “and I feel as weak as man can feel. Don’t let me go to sleep.”
“Why not, father? I’ll watch and call you if there is anything wrong.”
“No, my boy,” said the captain sadly. “I could not sleep, I believe, after all, even if I tried. It was a momentary weakness.”
“The captain awake?” said a deep harsh voice.
“Yes, Gregory, I’m awake,” was the reply.
“Well, sir, I think we’ve done all we can. The lads are asleep; so is Morgan. The major is on guard, and the men understand what to do if they are roused. Now, sir, why don’t you turn in?”
“No, Gregory; I’ll keep watch too.”