Marion Dearsley begged that she might see him, and Tom gave gracious permission when he thought his charge was asleep.  Miss Dearsley was leaning beside the cot.  “Like to an angel bending o’er the dying who die in righteousness, she stood,” when she and Lennard met with a sudden surprise.  The wounded man opened his great dark eyes that showed like deep shadows on the dead white of his skin; he saw that clear, exquisite face with all the divine fulness of womanly tenderness shining sweetly from the kind eyes, and he smiled—­a very beautiful smile.  He could speak very low, and the awe-stricken girl murmured—­

“Oh, hear him, Mr. Lennard, hear him!”

The man spoke in a slow monotone.

“Its all right, and I’m there arter all.  I’ve swoor, and Ive drunk, and yet arter all I’m forgiven.  That’s because I prayed at the very last minute, an’ He heerd me.  The angel hasn’t got no wings like what they talked about, but that don’t matter; I’m here, and safe, and I’ll meet the old woman when her time comes, and no error; but it ain’t no thanks to me.”

Then the remarkable theologian drew a heavy sigh of gladness, and passed into torpor again.  Tom Lennard, in a stage whisper which was calculated to soothe a sick man much as the firing of cannon might, said—­

“Well, of all the what’s-his-names, that beats every book that ever was.”

Tears were standing in the lady’s sweet eyes, and there was something hypocritical in the startling cough whereby Thomas endeavoured to pose as a hard and seasoned old medical character.

Meanwhile Ferrier was slung on board the smack which hailed first, and his education was continued with a vengeance.

“Down there, sir!”

Lewis got half way down when a rank waft of acrid and mephitic air met him and half-choked him.  He struggled on, and when he found his bearings by the dim and misty light he sat down on a locker and gasped.  The atmosphere was heated to a cruel and almost dangerous pitch, and the odour!—­oh, Zola! if I dared!  A groan from a darkened corner sounded hollow, and Ferrier saw his new patient.  The skipper came down and said—­

“There he is, sir.  When our topmast broke away it ketches him right in the leg, and we could do nothin’.  He has suffered some, he has, sir, and that’s true.”

Ferrier soon completed his examination, and he said—­

“It’s a mercy I’m well provided.  This poor soul must have a constitution like a horse.”

An ugly fracture had been grinding for forty-eight hours, and not a thing could be done for the wretched fellow.  Quickly and surely Ferrier set and strapped up the limb; then disposing the patient as comfortably as possible in an unspeakably foul and sloppy berth, he said—­

“Let that boy stand by this man, and take care that he’s not thrown from side to side.  I must breathe the air, or I shall drop down.”  When on deck he said, “Now, my man, what would you have done if you hadn’t met us?”