"Oh, death! you have hovered over my head pretty steadily of late! It
is a question whether I had not better let you come on and end these
weary struggles, rather than become a hopeless cripple in the prime of
life! Why should I fear death now more than before?"
"Have you any hope of eternal life, Rosco?"
"How can _I_ tell? What do _I_ know about eternal life!"
"Then you are not prepared to die; and let me earnestly assure you that
there _is_ something well worth living for, though at present you do
not--you _cannot_ know it."
"Enough. Let it be as the doctor advises," said the pirate in a tone of
resignation.
That night the operation was successfully performed, and the unfortunate
man was afterwards carefully tended by Ebony.
Next day Tomeo and Buttchee were told that their old friend Zeppa could
not yet be seen, but that he required many little comforts from the
"Furious," which must be brought up with as little delay as possible.
That was sufficient. Forgetting themselves in their anxiety to aid
their friend, these affectionate warriors went off on their mission, and
were soon out of sight.
When Zeppa awoke at last with a deep sigh, it was still dark. This was
fortunate, for he could not see whose hand administered the physic, and
was too listless and weak to inquire. It was bright day when he awoke
the second time and looked up inquiringly in his son's face.
"What, are you still there, Orley?" he said faintly, while the habitual
sweet expression stole over his pale features, though it was quickly
followed by the perplexed look. "But how comes this change? You look
so much older than you are, dear boy. Would God that I could cease this
dreaming!"
"You are not dreaming _now_, father. I am indeed Orley. You have been
ill and delirious, but, thanks be to God, are getting well again."
"What?" exclaimed the invalid; "has it been all a dream, then? Were you
_not_ thrown into the sea by mutineers, and have I _not_ been wandering
for months or years on a desert island? But then, if these things be
all dreams," he added, opening his eyes wide and fixing them intently on
Orlando's face, "how comes it that I still dream the change in _you_?
You are Orley, yet not Orley! How is that?"
"Yes, all that is true, dear, _dear_ father," said the youth, gently
clasping one of the helpless hands that lay crossed on Zeppa's broad
chest; "I _was_ thrown overboard by the mutineers years ago, but, thank
God, I was not drowned; and you have been wandering here in--in--very
ill, for years; but, thank God again, you are better, and I have been
mercifully sent to deliver you."
"I can't believe it, Orley, for I have so often seen you, and you have
so often given me the slip--yet there does seem something very real
about you just now--very real, though so changed--yet it is the same
voice, and you never _spoke_ to me before in my dreams--except once.
Yes, I think it was once, that you spoke. I remember it well, for the
sound sent such a thrill to my heart. Oh! God forbid that it should
again fade away as it has done so often!"
"It will not fade, father. The time you speak of was only yesterday,
when I found you. You have been sleeping since, and a doctor is
attending you."
"A doctor! where did _he_ come from?"
At that moment Ebony approached with some food in a tin pan. The
invalid observed him at once.
"Ebony! can that be you? Why--when--oh! my poor brain feels so light--
it seems as if a puff of wind would blow it away. I must have been very
ill." Zeppa spoke feebly, and closed his eyes, from which one or two
tears issued--blessed tears!--the first he had shed for many a day.
"His reason is restored," whispered the doctor in Orlando's ear, "but he
must be left to rest."
Orlando's heart was too full to find relief through the lips.
"I cannot understand it at all," resumed Zeppa, reopening his eyes;
"least of all can I understand _you_, Orley, but my hope is in God. I
would sleep now, but you must not let go my hand." (Orlando held it
tighter.) "One word more. Your dear mother?"
"Is well--and longs to see you."
A profound, long-drawn sigh followed, as if an insupportable burden had
been removed from the wearied soul, and Zeppa sank into a sleep so
peaceful that it seemed as if the spirit had forsaken the worn out
frame. But a steady, gentle heaving of the chest told that life was
still there. During the hours that followed, Orlando sat quite
motionless, like a statue, firmly grasping his father's hand.