is disposed to
treat the whole matter something like a joke.

John engages him in conversation for a purpose, and learns what he can
about the peculiar affair; but the soldier professes to know nothing
beyond the fact that the boatman suddenly cried that the craft was
sinking, whereupon he called out for assistance from the other boat,
and then, as the emergency seemed very close, he sprang up to save Lady
Ruth, when his foot caught in the thwart and he pitched heavily forward.

He was not wholly unconscious, and with some one's help, he knew not
whom at the time, he managed to crook his arm through the rope belonging
to the tiller. After which he knew no more until he came to on board the
steamer and found the surgeon pouring whisky down his throat.

"Perhaps your boatman was crazy. I'm sure our fellow must have been out
of his mind, judging from his actions when leaving the steamer. Why, he
even warned me to keep an eye on you, sir."

At this the Englishman removes his cigar from between his teeth, looks
hard at the doctor, says "by Jove!" several times, and then laughs
heartily.

"That is very funny. Indeed, I can't remember anything that strikes
me as more peculiar. Any one can watch me--my actions are, I hope,
above-board. It is true I am disappointed in not having been able to
have saved Lady Ruth, but so long as some one took her from the water,
what does it matter? The boatmen are mad, because they lost a craft.
Jove! I'd like to teach them a lesson for taking out passengers in a
cranky, rotten boat. Do you know, I believe my foot went clean through
the bottom when I jumped up."

This, spoken in a frank, ingenuous way, quite disarms John.

He does not like to think evil of his fellow human beings, at any rate.

The wind is increasing meanwhile, and clouds hide the young moon.

"I believe we will have a storm," is the last remark Sir Lionel makes,
as he staggers across the rising deck and makes a plunge down into the
cabin, for although a duck in the water, the Briton is no yachtsman, and
possibly already feels the terrible grip of the coming _mal de mer_.

His words are soon verified, however, for the waves and wind continue to
rise until the steamer is mightily buffeted. Still John remains on deck.
There is a fascination for him in the scene that words cannot express.
When he has had enough he will find his state-room and sleep, for surely
he needs it after being awake a good deal of the preceding nig