e_ could cure her.

All the passengers were very good to her, I will say _that_ for 'em; and
as for us blue-jackets, every man Jack of us would have jumped overboard
only to please her, when once we knew how it was. But she was too weak
to talk or read much, and the chief thing she had to amuse her was a
little grey Java sparrow, which she had with her in a cage. Whenever she
came on deck, the bird's cage was brought up too, and put close beside
her; and it was Bob Wilkins, the pantry-boy, who always had the carrying
of it.

It was a pretty little thing that bird was, and as sensible as any man;
fact, it was a deal more sensible than many men that _I_'ve met. When
she had a headache (and terrible headaches she used to have, poor lass)
that bird would be as quiet as a mouse. But when she was well enough to
stand it, she'd have the cage brought to her, and open it with her own
hands, and out the little fellow would pop, and flutter on to her
shoulder, and eat out of her hand, just as natural as could be. And then
she used to stroke its feathers with her poor thin fingers and smile
such a strange, sad kind of smile, that many a time I've had to go away
in a hurry for fear I should cry outright; and I can tell you I wasn't
the only one, neither.

But fond as we all were of that bird, there was somebody else that was
fonder still, and that was the captain's big tortoise-shell cat: and to
see the way it kept its eye on that Java sparrow, and watched for a
chance to get hold of it! you never saw the like.

Well, the captain was a kind man, and didn't want to hurt the poor cat,
specially as it was a great pet of his wife's; so he tied it up to keep
it out of mischief. But of course it took and squalled all night, till
nobody could sleep a wink for the noise, and he had to let it loose
again. So then he says to me--

"Thompson," says he, "just keep your eye on that cat, and if it ever
comes on to the poop-deck, drive it off again."

"Aye, aye, sir," says I, and I kept a bright lookout, sure enough. But
one day that cat _was_ too sharp for me, after all.

It was getting towards afternoon, on our second day from Port Said, and
Miss Ashton was lying on her couch on the poop-deck, with her bird's
cage hanging from one of the lashings of the awning, close beside her.
I'd just been down to fetch our third officer's telescope; and as I came
up again, something brushed past me. I saw the cat spring up at the
cage, the cord snapp