"The shock was frightful," he said—"it was almost a congestion."
It was not till night, when the frigate had been for a long time at sea, and had left Cadiz roads far behind it, that a favourable crisis set in, and the Captain became slightly better.
"He is about to regain his senses," the doctor said.
In fact, a few convulsive movements agitated the Count's body, and he half-opened his eyes; but his glances were wild and absent; he looked all around him, as if trying to discover where he was, and why he was thus lying on his bed.
The three men, with their eyes fixed on him, anxiously watched this return to life, whose appearance was anything but reassuring to them.
The surgeon, more especially, seemed restless; big forehead was wrinkled, and his eyebrows met, through the effort of some internal emotion.
All at once the Count hurriedly sat up, and addressed Michael, who was standing by his side.
"Lieutenant," he said to him, in a quick, sharp voice, "let her fall off a point, or else the Spanish vessel will escape—why have you not beat to quarters, sir?"
The surgeon gave Michael a sign.
"Pardon, Commandant," the latter replied, humouring the sick man's fancy, "we have beaten to quarters, and the tops are all manned."