the other man, as he was lifted into the boat. And in a
few minutes they were speeding back to the steamer, and the sailors were
trying to pour a few drops of brandy and water down the parched throat
of the one man who seemed to be beyond speech and movement.

The mate was able to give a concise account of the perils of the last
few days when he arrived on board the _Arizona_; but there was little to
relate. The story of a fire, of a hurried escape, of the severance of
the boats, and the agonies of thirst endured by the survivors had
nothing in it that was particularly new. The captain dismissed the men
good-humouredly to the care of cook and steward: it was only the
steerage passenger who required to be put under the doctor's care. It
seemed that he had been hurt by the falling of a spar, and severely
scorched in trying to save a child who was in imminent danger; and,
though he had at first been the most cheery and hopeful of the party,
his strength had soon failed, and he had lain half or wholly unconscious
for the greater part of the last two or three days.

There was one passenger on board the _Arizona_ who listened to all these
details with a keener interest than that shown by any other listener. He
went down and talked to the men himself as soon as he had the chance and
asked their names. One of the officers came with him, and paid an almost
equally keen attention to the replies.

"Mine's Thomas Jackson, sir; and the bo'sun's name it is Fall--Andrew
Fall. And the passenger, sir? Steerage he was: he was called Mackay."

"No, he warn't," said the boatswain, in a gruff tone. "Saving your
presence, sir, his name was Smith."

"Mackay," said the mate, with equal positiveness. "And a fine fellow he
was, too, and one of the best for cheering of us up with his stories and
songs; and not above a bit of a prayer, too, when the worst came to the
worst. I heard him myself."

"No sign of your friend here, Mr. Heron, I'm afraid," whispered the
ship's officer.

"I am afraid not. Was there a passenger on board the _Falcon_ called
Stretton."

"No, sir. I'm sure o' that."

"Or--Luttrell?"

Percival Heron knew well enough that no such name had been found amongst
the list of passengers; but he had a vague notion that Brian might have
resumed his former appellation for some reason or other after he came on
board. Thomas Jackson considered the subject for a few minutes.

"I ain't rightly sure, sir. Seems to me there was a