Walters knows what a brute he has been, and of course he is horribly
sorry, and bad now, and keeps on speaking about there being no hope for
him, and wanting to die. I can't talk to him, because I don't seem to
be able to do anything but pitch into him--I mean with words--but you
can."

"Poor fellow!" she said gently; and she laid her hand upon his hot brow;
"he is very feverish, and in great pain."

"Yes, of course he is," I cried hurriedly; "but that's the way. I
couldn't have said that. It would do any fellow good. And I say, Miss
Denning, you tell him that I didn't mean all I said," I continued.
"He's done wrong, and he's sorry for it, and I'm sure I'll forgive him
if you will."

She smiled at us both so gently that the stupid weak tears came in my
eyes.

"That means you will," I cried hurriedly. "Then I say, you speak to
him, and make him feel that talking about dying's no good. He can't
show how sorry he is if he does, can he?"

"Of course not."

"Then tell him he's to get well as soon as he can, and play the man now
and help us to save the ship, and you, and all of us; and I say, I
really must go and help now, and--oh, Miss Denning, don't sit down
there; that's my sandwich."

I caught up the partly eaten biscuit and meat, and hurried out of the
cabin to make my way forward.

"What a donkey I have made of myself!" I cried, mentally. "I thought I
had said stupid enough things to poor old Walters, and now I've spoken
such nonsense to her that she'll always look upon me as a regular booby.
Yes, that she will."

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

I was so upset and worried about the way in which I had acted in the
cabin, that for a time I forgot all about my sandwich; but, as I neared
the steam, and heard the hissing and shrieking going on, I began
nibbling the biscuit, and went on along the side of the broken deck
close to the starboard gangway, and as soon as I was in the thick mist,
I forgot all about the scene in the cabin, the clanking of the pump so
steadily going on helping to drive it out of my head.

"Well, Bob," I said, "you haven't put it all out yet, then. Why, I
could have finished long ago, if I'd stopped."

"No doubt, clever-shakes," said Mr Brymer. "Here, lay hold of the
nozzle and do it then."

"Oh, I beg your pardon," I cried. "I thought it was Bob Hampton."

"I know you did," he said, as I took a step or two forward to where I
could dimly see the mate manipulating the copper tube