Harvey did not resume the task again that day; he was too weary to do so. That night he was ill and feverish, and in the morning had an attack of bleeding at the lungs. The landlord sent for the doctor, but the patient was not able to leave in the steamer, which went in the afternoon. The landlord's wife nursed him carefully and kindly, and in a week he began to improve. He had no further attack of bleeding, and he began to hope that he should live to get home. As soon as he was able to sit up in the bed, he resumed the writing up of the diary.
But we must leave him in his chamber thus occupied, to introduce the most important character of our story.
He was a rather tall and quite stout young fellow of sixteen. He was dressed in homely attire, what there was of it, for he wore no coat, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, in order, apparently, to give his arms more freedom. He was as tawny as the sailors of the Waldo had been, tanned by the hot suns of the West Indies. He had just come down the river from the principal wharf, at the head of which was the fish market—a very important institution, where the product of the sea formed a considerable portion of the food of the people. The boat in which he sailed was an old, black, dingy affair, which needed to be baled out more than once a day to keep her afloat. The sail was almost as black as the hull, and had been patched and darned in a hundred places. The skipper and crew of this unsightly old craft was Leopold Bennington, the only son of the landlord of the Cliff House, though he had three daughters.
Leopold carried the anchor of his boat far up on the rocks above the beach, and thrust one of the arms down into a crevice, where it would hold the boat. Taking from the dingy boat a basket which was heavy enough to give a considerable curve to his spine as he carried it, he climbed up the rocks to the street which extended along the shore of the river for half a mile. On the opposite side of it was the Cliff House. His father stood on the piazza of the house as the young man crossed the street.
"Well, Leopold, what luck had you to-day?" asked Mr. Bennington, as his son approached.
"First rate, father," replied the young man, as his bronzed face lighted up with enthusiasm.
"What did you get?" asked the landlord.
"Mackerel!" exclaimed mine host, his face in turn lighting up with pleasure.
"Lots of them, father."