inevitably sweep me off my feet, so, to avoid being dashed
against the poop rail, I unhesitatingly leapt overboard, and, while
still under water, felt the weight of the sea falling upon me that I had
jumped overboard to avoid. The pressure was as that of a mountain, and
it drove me downward until the light dwindled to a sombre green
twilight, while the whirling water seemed to clasp me about as with a
thousand arms, flinging and dragging me hither and thither but ever
downward, until I could hold my breath no longer, when with a great
irresistible gasp my lungs filled with water, darkness and silence
profound and impenetrable shut me in, a thousand quaint, fantastic
fancies thronged my brain, and--I knew no more.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE CATASTROPHE.

My next sensation was that of pain--burning, stabbing, racking pain, of
so excruciating a character that I incontinently groaned aloud. Then,
as though in response to my groan, I heard--vaguely, and without any
immediate comprehension of the meaning of the words--a voice say:

"There, I think that will do, General; he is in pain, now, thank God!--
which means that he is coming round--and there is every reason to hope
that he will pull through. Thanks for your valuable assistance. I can
manage single-handed, now. You might make it known that Mr Conyers
shows signs of returning consciousness, and that I have every hope of
saving him. I fancy the intelligence will be not altogether unwelcome
to at least one of the cuddy party."

"By Gad! yes; I think I know who you mean. I'll make a point of telling
the news in her hearing," was the reply. "Are you sure there is nothing
else that I can do, doctor?"

"Nothing more, thank you--except, perhaps, that you might suggest the
value of quietness of movement on the part of anyone coming below. No
slamming of cabin-doors, or anything of that sort, you know," answered
the first voice, which I now recognised as that of the ship's doctor on
board the _City of Cawnpore_.

"All right; I'll see to it," replied the other voice, now quite familiar
to me as that of General O'Brien. A gentle click of the cabin-door
latch succeeded; and I opened my eyes languidly, to see Scudamore's
sharp-cut features bending close to mine, with an earnest, intent look
in his kindly eyes.

"Well," he exclaimed heartily, as our eyes met, "how do you feel now?"

"In horrible pain," I answered, with another involuntary groan. "What
is the matter