"Compose myself for what?" she asked, suddenly. "What has happened?—who is injured? Not papa—not my papa, surely?"
"Yes, Ethel, your papa," replied Morley, retaining her hands firmly in his own.
She uttered a cry, and was breaking from him, when he restrained her in his arms.
"Pardon me, Ethel—dear Ethel, pardon me," he continued to repeat; "your father has suffered much maltreatment at the hands of those villains on deck; but Dr. Heriot has nearly restored him—a little time, and he shall tell you all about it himself."
"Oh," she sobbed, and, overcome by emotion, dropped her head on Morley's shoulder; "my father—my loved papa!"
And, as she spoke, how convulsively the white bosom heaved.
Impulsive, and wildly energetic, Rose Basset now tried to escape from the cabin; but Morley placed his back against the door, and strove to soothe and to retain her.
At first, it would appear that Ethel had not recognised her father in that stripped man, whose face was swollen, streaked with blood, and livid by recent strangulation; and thus, unobserved, she had overlooked the operations of Heriot for nearly a minute in silent bewilderment and alarm.
She was almost fainting again on learning that this helpless patient was her father, but gathered courage from the energy of Rose, who kept incessantly repeating:
"Let me out, Morley—let me go to papa! I must—I shall get out! Mr. Ashton, will you dare to keep me from papa, who is ill?"