I awoke again toward evening; was again visited by the doctor, and once more partook of a tolerably substantial basin of broth and bread. Just as the light was fading away, Atkins approached my bedside with something in a wine-glass which he invited me to swallow. I drank it off, made a wry face at its decidedly nauseous flavour, and soon afterwards fell asleep.
The next day passed in a very similar manner, except that I remained awake longer during the day, and as I lay there enjoying the cool freshness of the breeze and looking out through the jalousies, the recollection of the events which attended and followed the destruction of the “Juanita” returned to my memory. From this time my progress toward recovery was rapid, and at the end of a week I was allowed to sit up, partially dressed, for an hour or two during the day.
When I had reached this stage I was deemed strong enough to learn the full particulars of my illness; and I was horrified to find that I had been for nearly eight months completely out of my mind. It seemed that the raft had drifted before the wind until—missing Saint Domingo altogether—it had reached the Windward Channel, where it was fallen in with by the “Rattler” sloop-of-war; the skipper of which picked us up, and finding that we were still alive took the greatest care of us, cracking on until he reached Port Royal. Hawsepipe and the seaman had sufficiently recovered by that time to be able to narrate all the circumstances connected with the loss of the schooner; but I was delirious with brain-fever, and the admiral—who was inexpressibly shocked at the recital of our sufferings—immediately made arrangements for my removal to the camp-hospital, that being deemed the spot where I should be most likely to recover. I had been nursed and attended there with the utmost assiduity, and the brain-fever eventually left me; but it left me insane, in which dreadful condition I had remained for nearly eight months. The brain-fever and the insanity were both attributed—rightly, no doubt—to my frightful sufferings; and no effort had been spared to secure the restoration of my reason, which, by God’s mercy, had at length been achieved. I learned, further, that the “Astarte” was still upon the station, but was then at sea, having sailed upon another cruise a few days only before my recovery. Captain Annesley had suffered greatly in mind through the long continuance of my affliction, and had spent hours by my side whenever the frigate happened to be in port, and had directed that no expense should be spared in the endeavour to secure my restoration to sanity.
As soon as I was strong enough to be moved, I was placed in a grass hammock slung between two poles, and in that easy and agreeable mode of travelling was conveyed by negroes—who bore me four at a time, while another shaded me from the sun’s rays with a huge umbrella—to Mr Finnie’s country house; that most hospitable planter and his wife having insisted upon undertaking the task of once more nursing me back to health and strength.
I remained with these kind-hearted friends over a month, and in that time managed to recover to a very great extent all that I had lost; but my head still remained unpleasantly weak; so that I could neither read nor write for more than half-an-hour a day. Doctor Musgrave, the head physician, who had looked after me during my long sojourn in the camp-hospital, and who still rode out to see me whenever he could spare the time—which, however, was not often—at length forbade me to touch either pen or book for at least six months, assuring me that my complete recovery depended entirely upon my scrupulous compliance with his injunctions, and very frequently and strongly urged upon me the desirability of my returning to England and retiring from the sea for a time. At length, seeing no other prospect of perfect restoration, I consented, and began leisurely to make my preparations for departure by the next packet.
A few days after I had made up my mind upon this point, a ketureen rattled up to the front door of the house, and in another moment Captain Annesley rushed headlong and unannounced into the room in which I was seated chatting with my kind and gentle hostess, and seizing my hand began to shake it as though he would shake it off.
“Ralph, old man,” he ejaculated excitedly, “how are you? Stand up, man, and let me look at you. Ah! there you are; but—you are as thin as a rake, and still rather shaky, apparently. My dear madam, pray excuse me; upon my honour I never perceived you until this moment. I trust you are well, and your esteemed husband, also. Thank God, old fellow, I see you something like your old self once more.”
The skipper rattled on until he was fairly out of breath, and then gradually subsided into his usual quiet and self-possessed manner. The “Astarte,” he told me, had arrived the previous day, and he had seized the first available moment to run out and see me, the admiral having acquainted him with the news of my recovery and removal. At the earnest invitation of my host and hostess he consented to remain over the night, his presence not being very particularly required on board the frigate until next day. In the course of the day I told him what Dr Musgrave had advised, and of the decision I had made to follow it.
“Well,” said he, “if the doctor advises it, I have no doubt it will be best for you; still, it is a thousand pities, for I believe, if you could but hold on a little longer, we should all be able to go home together. I fancy it will not be very long before the frigate herself is ordered home.”
He left next morning, after an early breakfast, promising to return again in a day or two, when, according to arrangement, I was to go back on board with him for a day and renew my acquaintance with my old shipmates.