Rose, perceiving that Ethel was deadly pale, for the events of the morning proved rather too much for her strength, took her below for a little time, by Mr. Basset's suggestion. Morley affectionately, and tenderly handed her down the companion-stair—not a glance of his the while, not an emotion or movement being unnoticed by Hawkshaw, who, like a hawk, or rather like a tree-tiger robbed of his prey, was still perched alone in the fore-crosstrees.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CORPSE-LICHT.
As Morley turned away from the companion, he was confronted by his old friend Morrison, the mate of the defunct Princess. The Scotsman's honest face was radiant with pleasure, and grasping Morley's hand, he congratulated him warmly on the sudden change that a few hours had made in all his plans and prospects.
"No use in thinking of Tasmania now, or calculating the chances of finding a ship for the Isle of France, and all that, Mr. Ashton, eh?" said Morrison, laughing.
"Thank Heaven, no," said Morley, as they descended the break of the quarter-deck, and went to windward, near the main-rigging; "so great has been the alteration in all our affairs, that I can scarcely believe I was the poor doomed wretch of a few hours ago. Another night on that wreck would have seen us all dead men, Morrison."
Then Morley thought how strange it would have been if the ship, with Ethel on board, had passed the wreck, on board of which he was lying dead, and there was no voice to inform them of his fate, and the terrible mystery involving it.
"And you will be getting married now, Mr. Ashton," said Morrison, after a pause.
"Married!" repeated Morley, with astonishment; "where—where—here upon the open sea?"
"No; but when we are all landed at the Mauritius, where I shall have to look out for another ship, and, perhaps, may have to work my way home before the mast, for home to Scotland I must get somehow; and before the mast——"