"He is gone," said Lennox, after a long pause, as he stepped to the berth, with the intention of covering the dead body with the sheet. He no sooner stooped down, however, than he suddenly started back, and held up his hand to attract our attention. I looked--one eyelid quivered--it opened a little, then shut again, and again the aguish appearance passed over it; the chest heaved, and the little sufferer drew a long sigh. "He lives, he lives!" said Lennox, in a low voice, and speaking as if he was himself choking. The word was passed through the skylight to the warm-hearted expectants clustered round it on their knees on the deck above. My eye, what a row! They instantly jumped to their feet, and began to caper about overhead as if a legion of dancing devils had suddenly possessed them.
"He's alive," shouted one poor fellow, "and we can now spare Dicky Phantom."
"Forward with you, men," sung out Mr Wadding; "forward with you; how dare you lumber the quarterdeck in that way, with your lubberly carcasses?"
We now increased our exertions, and had the inexpressible pleasure of seeing them crowned with success; and having poured some tepid wine and water down the child's throat--he was as yet too weak to drink it himself, or to speak--we had the happiness to see him open wide his fine dark blue eyes, and take a steady, and apparently, a conscious look at us; and presently his respiration, though as yet slow and sigh-like, became regular; the animal heat of his body over his heart began to be perceptible--the blue clayey colour of his skin and face, the sharpness of his features, and the blackness of his shrunk lips, began to fade and give way before the accelerating circulation--and after coughing up a large quantity of salt water, he turned his little face to the ship's side, and fell into a sound sleep.
By this time it was near sunset, and the gale was rapidly abating, but the sea was still very high. We ran down and closed the commodore, keeping him in view the whole night.
Donovan and I were sitting in the cabin regaling ourselves with a glass of grog, about nine o'clock in the evening--"I say, Benjie, how that poor little fellow snores--do you hear him?"
"I do, and it is music to mine ear, my darling. What a scene it must have been when the ship foundered! I am glad we did not see it, Donovan."