Gervase showed signs of returning consciousness. His first action was to feel for the precious letter, and then he opened his eyes and looked round him with a gaze of vacant inquiry. “Where am I?” he said.
“Why, just aboard the brig Phoenix, Andrew Douglas, Master, hailing from Coleraine, and bound with the help of God, for the port of Londonderry; and among your friends if you are what I take you to be. Now don´t trouble your head but just take a drop more of this.” The kindly shipmaster put the bottle to his lips and insisted on his drinking.
“Ye´ll kill him,” said the mate; “ye think that everybody has the same stomach for strong waters as yourself. It´s food he wants, I´ll warrant, not drink.”
“And food he´ll have,” cried the master excitedly, “when I´ve brought back the colour to his cheeks, and he´ll be on his legs in a twinkling. Here, Jack, you skulking rogue, set out the best there is on board, and make us a bowl of punch, for by ----, I´ll drink the health of the bravest fellow I´ve clapt eyes on for a twelvemonth.”
“You would drink with less provocation than that,” said the mate, lifting Gervase to his feet and helping him to a seat. “Now ye can tell us the news from Londonderry, lad, if it´s true ye come from there.”
“I came thence to-day--yesterday,” said Gervase. “They can hold out no longer. Where is Colonel Kirke? I must see him immediately.”
The master looked at his mate with a broad grin on his face. “Faith ye´ll not see the Colonel to-night, nor early in the morning either. If he´s not abed by this time and as drunk as a lord, he´s on the fair way to it, and swearing like a dragoon with a broken head. He´s a terrible man in his cups, is Kirke, and they keep it up rarely on board the Swallow. I love the clink of a glass sometimes[sometimes] myself, but--hoot! there´s no use talking. If you´re able, spin us your yarn while they´re getting you something warm, for you must want a heap of filling out to look like the man you were.”
Gervase told his story shortly as well as he was able, interrupted repeatedly by exclamations of wonder and horror by the captain and the mate, and when he had finished they sat staring at him open-mouthed.
“That is the tale as briefly as I can tell it,” said Gervase, “and you will not wonder that I would put the letter in Kirke´s hands with all the haste I can. Next Wednesday there will not be a scrap of food in the city, and if you wait till then you may lift your anchors and go back to where you came from. For God´s sake, tell me what you are waiting for?”
“Till Kirke has emptied his puncheons,” said the mate bitterly.