“But where are we going, sir?” I asked, in a trembling voice.
“You may perhaps have an opportunity of getting home,” he answered. “But you see, my lad, we are bound for the East Indies, and shall probably have a somewhat long cruise of it.”
“To the East Indies!” I cried, my voice sinking almost to a whisper. “When, when, Margaret, may I ever meet you again?”
“Cheer up, my lad, it’s a long road which has no turning, ye ken,” cried the kind doctor. “Remember your resolution to do your duty like a man. You’ll be well in a few days, I hope.”
He did not reply to my question about Iffley. Somehow or other, I could not bring myself again to repeat that man’s name. I did not forget the command to forgive our enemies, but I felt that flesh and blood—the depravity of human nature—must be struggled with and overcome, before the divine precept could be obeyed.
Once more I was on my feet again, and a man who attended on the sick helped me up on deck. It was a fine day—the sky was blue, the sea was calm, and some thirty ships, with all their canvas set, were grouped close around us. They were huge lumbering tea-chests, as we used to call Indiamen, but they were fine-looking craft for all that. The fresh sea-breeze revived me. Every hour I felt myself growing stronger and better. I looked round for Iffley. I had a nervous dread of meeting him, and yet I felt anxious to ascertain that he was on board.
A person may be on board a big ship like the Albion for several days without meeting another, provided they are not on duty together. Such was my case. I had been for two days on deck, an hour or so at a time, without seeing the man who had proved himself so bitterly my enemy. The doctor told me he thought that in a day or two more I might go to my duty, and that I should be the better for having work to do. I looked forward to work with satisfaction, and begged that I might as soon as possible be struck off the sick list. He told me that I should be so on the following day, and that he would speak to the first lieutenant about me, as he was a very kind man, and would see that I was not sent aloft till I had sufficiently recovered my strength. I thanked him with a hearty blessing for his kindness and consideration.
The very first man on whom my eyes rested when I went on deck returned fit for duty was Charles Iffley. He was going along the deck with his cat-o’-nine-tails in his hand. I knew by this that he still held only the rating of boatswain’s mate on board. My heart turned sick at the sight; in a moment my vivid imagination pictured all I might have to suffer at his hands.
He saw me, but pretended not to know me, and went on his way as if I was a stranger. I was immediately sent for aft, and found that I had been entered in the ship’s books as an able seaman and a deserter from his Majesty’s ship the Brilliant.
“What have you to say to this, my man?” said the captain, looking sternly at me.