worse, I was sure, in mind.

I hesitated for a few moments, hardly knowing how to approach him, for
mentally I felt farther from him than ever. We had never been friends,
for I knew that he had never liked me, while now, as I gazed at him, and
thought of all the sufferings he had caused, I felt that we ought to be
enemies indeed. And so I behaved to him like the worst enemy I ever
had, and as he gazed at me fixedly I went and laid my hand upon his
forehead.

"You're precious hot and feverish," I said. "You had better have the
door open too."

I propped the cabin-door wide, so that the air might pass through, and
then added, gruffly enough--

"Shipbuilders are awful fools to make such little round windows," but,
as I said it, I felt all the time that the little iron-framed circular
window that could be screwed up, air and water-tight, had been the
saving of many a ship in rough seas.

"Hadn't you better drink some water?" I said next, as I saw him pass
his dry tongue over his parched lips.

"Please," he said feebly; and, as I took the glass of water, passed my
arm under his head to hold him up and let him drink, I said to myself--

"You cowardly, treacherous brute!--the bullet ought to have killed you,
or we should have let you drown."

"Hah!" he sighed, as, after sipping a little of the water and swallowing
it painfully, he began taking long deep draughts with avidity, just as
if the first drops had moistened his throat and made a way for the rest.

"Have another glass?" I said abruptly.

He bowed his head, and I let him down gently; though, as I thought of
Miss Denning, her brother, and the burning ship, I felt that I ought to
let him down with as hard a bump as I could.

I filled the glass again, and once more lifted him and let him drink,
scowling at him all the time.

"There," I thought, as I laid him back again, "that's enough. You'll
soon die, and I don't want to have the credit of killing you with
kindness."

He looked at me piteously, and his lips moved, but I could not grasp
what he said.

"Wound hurt?" I asked.

He bowed his head.

"Sure to," I said. "It'll be ever so much worse yet."

He bowed his head again.

"Look here," I said gruffly, "why don't you speak, and not wag your head
like a mandarin in a tea-shop?"

He looked at me reproachfully, and his lips moved again.

"Is the ship still burning?" he said faintly, and evidently with a great
effort.

"Yes, I s'pose so,"