“Broad on the starboard bow, sir, nearly ahead.”
The shout seemed to rouse the sick man. His eyes opened languidly, and so heavy and stertorous was the breathing, that the clothes rose and fell with the labouring chest.
Dom Maxara had regained consciousness, but it became evident that some severe internal injury had taken place, and that death was not far off. Isabel leaned over him, and kissed the white lips.
“Land is in sight, dear father; the weather is fine, and we shall soon reach it,” she whispered, placing her hand in his.
The old man closed his eyes, and prayed; he then motioned with his hand, and Hughes gave him some teaspoonsful of weak brandy and water.
This revived him, and the cushions being arranged, he managed, though with much pain, to make himself heard.
“I shall never land, my daughter,” he said, “never. Isabel, at the foot of my bed you will find a tin case, bring it.”
The weeping girl did as she was told without a word.
“Enrico,” continued the dying man, slowly and feebly, “all my papers are there. Whatever property I have is left to my daughter. Isabel, I am leaving you fast.”
The girl knelt by his side, sobbing bitterly, but without speaking.