"He is going on all right," he said to Hawkins, when he went up.
"There is no fever yet, anyhow, for he has drunk only half that
glass of lime juice. If he had been feverish he would not have
stopped until he had got to the bottom of it."
When George next woke, the morning was breaking.
"Anything new?" he asked Purvis, who was now at the tiller.
"Nothing whatever. The governor has not rung his bell. The wind is
just as it was, neither better nor worse, and the brigantine is
eight miles ahead of us."
George went forward to have a look at her.
"I think I had better wake him," he said to himself. "He will have
had nine hours of it, and he won't like it if I don't let him know
that it is daylight. I will get two or three fresh limes squeezed,
and then go in to him."
This time Frank opened his eyes as he entered.
"Morning is breaking, Major, and everything is as it was. I hope
that you are feeling better for your sleep. Let me help you up.
Here is a tumbler of fresh lime juice."
"I feel right enough, George. I can scarcely believe that it is
morning. How I have slept--and I fancied that I should not have
gone off at all.
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