Morley spoke, and his voice, so long heard only in troubled dreams, now thrilled through the heart of Hawkshaw, causing sharp pangs of fear and agony; yet Morley's remark was a very simple one; but his voice, like the voices of the others, was husky and weak.
"Oh, the delight of such a cozy bed as this, after all we have undergone! Eh, Tom!"
"Yes, Morley, lad," replied Bartelot; "but I should like to know what craft we are on board of, and for where bound. I quite forgot to ask the doctor."
"She's true British at all events, by her build 'tween decks, captain," said Noah Gawthrop. "Thank God for all his mercies, 'specially to a rough old salt like me. He was very good and kind to remember a poor old feller like Noah, that he was, when there are so many younger and better folks to take care of. But I think the doctor mentioned her name, captain."
"Her—who?"
"Why the ship, I mean, sir."
"Yes—I am sure I heard it; she is the—the—"
(Hawkshaw trembled as Tom paused, for if the name was uttered in Morley's hearing, he—the listener—was lost!) "Well, it is strange that I don't remember; but her skipper's name is Phillips, and she hails from London. I made out that somehow."
"I know one Phillips—Bill Phillips, who was lost in the Straits of Sunda. He was once captain of the brig Erminia," said Morrison.
"Herminya!" replied Gawthrop, "that is the name o' the identical craft as we're aboard of; but she is too large—too broad in the beam for a brig."