ars in the West Indies, and then he was in the
Mediterranean, and now on the coast of Africa, in the Atalantis. You
must have heard about him, for it was in the newspaper, how, when he was
mate, he had the command of the Santa Isabel, the slaver they captured."

The boy would have gone on for ever, if Dr. May had not recalled him to
his brother's present condition, and proceeded to take every measure
for the welfare and comfort of the forlorn pair. He learned from other
sources that the Ernescliffes were well connected. The father had been
a distinguished officer, but had been ill able to provide for his sons;
indeed, he died, without ever having seen little Hector, who was born
during his absence on a voyage--his last, and Alan's first. Alan, the
elder by thirteen years, had been like a father to the little boy,
showing judgment and self-denial that marked him of a high cast of
character. He had distinguished himself in encounters with slave ships,
and in command of a prize that he had had to conduct to Sierra Leone,
he had shown great coolness and seamanship, in several perilous
conjunctures, such as a sudden storm, and an encounter with another
slaver, when his Portuguese prisoners became mutinous, and nothing but
his steadiness and intrepidity had saved the lives of himself and his
few English companions. He was, in fact, as Dr. May reported, pretty
much of a hero. He had not, at the time, felt the effects of the
climate, but, owing to sickness and death among the other officers, he
had suffered much fatigue and pressure of mind and body. Immediately on
his return, had followed his examination, and though he had passed with
great credit, and it had been at once followed by well-earned promotion,
his nervous excitable frame had been overtasked, and the consequence was
a long and severe illness.

The Swan Inn was not forty yards from Dr. May's back gate, and, at
every spare moment, he was doing the part of nurse as well as doctor,
professionally obliged to Alan Ernescliffe for bringing him a curious
exotic specimen of fever, and requiting him by the utmost care and
attention, while, for their own sakes, he delighted in the two boys with
all the enthusiasm of his warm heart. Before the first week was at
an end, they had learned to look on the doctor as one of the kindest
friends it had been their lot to meet with, and Alan knew that if he
died, he should leave his little brother in the hands of one who would
comfort h