Merchant captains have a smattering of knowledge, and a medicine chest on board, and there were willing hands to take charge of “the poor shipwrecked men;” but it was a hard fight with the raging fever and delirium from which both suffered, and again and again they were given over, and were still too weak to answer questions when Bristol port was reached, and they were taken to hospital ashore.
It was quite a month before the journey home could be taken in the old stage-coach bound from Bristol to Plymouth.
But Nic bore it well, for Captain Revel was seated by his side, holding his hand as if afraid that after all his son might slip from his grasp and the old suffering recommence.
“It nearly killed me before, my boy,” he said piteously, as he urged his son to be careful not to exert himself in the least. “I gave you up for dead, and I was following you fast, Nic, for I don’t believe I should have lived another year.”
“I’ll take care, father; never fear,” said the young man cheerily, for, though thin and worn, his eyes were brightening, and there were signs of returning health in his cheeks. “I only need a good, quiet rest in the old place, where I can lie and watch the sea, or go down the shady old combe, to listen to the falls and watch the salmon leap.”
“Ugh! don’t talk about the fish,” cried the Captain, with a shudder; “they were the cause of all this suffering.”
“Oh no,” said Nic, smiling. “It was all that terrible mistake.”
“Well, don’t let’s talk about the past,” said the Captain hurriedly; “or only about one thing, my boy. I did want to consult you about that fellow who’s up aloft with William Solly.”
“About Pete, father?”