"I had to come," she answered, motioning toward the bed. "I did not know she was so ill until Mrs. Bond came for me an hour ago. She has been sick ever since we came on board."

The woman was indeed ill. She seemed almost dying, and the foul air only helped to aggravate her condition.

Harold drew Helen to one side. "This fetid place will kill you. You must come away," he said.

"Never fear," she replied trying to smile. "I am much needed and can stand anything. Both the other women are sick; and unless the poor creature is helped she will die."

"From her looks," said Harold, "there is no hope even now. You had better suggest to Mrs. Bond what to do, and then come with me. I will speak to the Colonel of her condition at once."

"It is the abominable air that is killing her," said Helen.

"It is fetid, sure enough; but the storm is abating and the hatches will soon be opened again," he returned.

From the centre of the low ceiling hung a lamp, and although mid-day, its flickering light merely made the darkness visible. On the floor were a couple of wooden stools; and upon the straw pallet of a lower berth lay the woman. Covered with a grey blanket she tossed from side to side with every movement of the ship; while her husband sat by her and wiped away the saliva that ran from her mouth.

Helen was reluctant to leave, but she yielded, and Harold led the way to the upper air. The sky was already clearing, and the waves had ceased to wash the deck.

"What a pity we have no doctor on board!" she said, grasping his arm as they steered for their own gangway. "It does not give the poor woman a chance."

"The fact is, the marine surgeon took ill and had to be left behind at the last moment, so the order came to have his place supplied when we reach Halifax. Still the captain has a supply of medicines and is skilful," said Harold.

"I know," returned Helen. "The women say he has given her calomel every day since we sailed, and yet she gets worse."

"Perhaps his doses are not large enough," said Harold. "I know the doctors call it one of their sheet anchors. I will speak to the Colonel about it."

"And shall we have to go all the way to Penetang without a doctor?"

Helen asked with a little tremor in her voice.

"Oh, no, dearie; that will be arranged for when we reach port."

"h.e.l.lo, my lady! So you were playing truant! trying hide-go-seek in the nether regions, I hear," cried the Colonel with a laugh, as they entered the saloon.

"The women sent for me, Sir George," she answered gravely; "that poor woman Jenkins is very ill."

"Indeed, so bad as that!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I heard her case was one of ordinary sea-sickness. Something must be done for her. She is really the best woman that we have on board. Oh, here's the captain.

We'll see what he has to say." And turning to him: "This is distressing news about Corporal Jenkins' wife," Sir George continued. "They say she is terribly ill. Did you know it, Captain?"

"I am sorry to say it is true," was the answer. "She took ill right after we left the channel, and should have been bled then; but there was no one on board to do it, so I applied a dozen leeches and gave her physic. Spite of all we could do, she got worse when the last storm came, so I increased the calomel, but I fear it will be of no use."

"Are you sure you gave her enough?" asked the Colonel, echoing Harold's question.

"I think so. It would hardly be safe to give her more. She is salivated so badly now that she can scarcely swallow. The only thing left to do is to give her opium."

"Too bad," returned Sir George. "After her large camp experience she was a capital woman to have with us. We couldn't bring her children on account of the overland journey, and now I fear we have made a mistake all round. Zounds! I wish I hadn't brought her."

"It is hard to tell what is really the matter," said the captain.

"My own belief is that it is low fever contracted in Spain three months ago," said the engineer. "She was not feeling well when we sailed. You know, Colonel, she was with the Corporal throughout the continental war, and he was transferred to us on his return."

"It is unfortunate that the sickness was not discovered sooner," said Sir George, seriously. "Is there anything at all you can recommend, Payne? It is a d----d shame that we have no doctor on board."

"We might try wine and bark, and stop the calomel," was the reply.

"I'm afraid her mouth is too sore to swallow," was...o...b..rne's comment.

"Make her try," returned the engineer, "and give her opium afterwards to soothe her gums."

And so saying they went down to lunch.

"I must see her again to-night," whispered Helen to Harold as they seated themselves at their own little table in the saloon. "I really must."

"But, Helen, the danger!"

"No danger at all, dearie! I may not ask to do it again." And there was an appealing tone in her voice that Harold could not resist.

"Well, if you must, I will go too," was his answer. And silently they finished their meal.

CHAPTER VI.

"She's kinder sleepin', marm," said Mrs. Bond in a whisper, "but she was ravin' after you left till she got the new medicine. That quieted 'er like."

Helen was at the door with Harold by her side. As he had promised, the hatchways were open and the air purer.

"I have brought some jelly," said Helen in a low voice.

"This is the first sleep she's had for a long spell," returned the Corporal, gazing intently on the face of his wife. "P'raps we'd better wait a bit."

For some minutes Helen silently watched the sick woman. She was between thirty and forty years of age, with face prematurely old. Her ashen grey features were very thin and her lips swollen and open, while every few moments she grasped faintly at imaginary phantoms.

"Won't you take a seat, marm?" whispered Mrs. Bond. "Mrs. 'Ardman has gone on deck for a breath or two of fresh air."

But Helen declined. The woman moaned as she slept. Then with a start, her eyes opened and she peered toward the spot where Helen stood, grasping feebly with outstretched hand.

"It's Willie," she cried, in a tone m.u.f.fled by her swollen tongue. Her eyes were wide open now. "Why don't they let 'im come to me? And there's Jimmy and Jenny, too, Oh, my childer! my childer!" And she ended with a low, tearless wail. Her friends tried to soothe her, but it was no use.

Waving them back, she went on with a gasp: "They won't let 'em--they won't let 'em--but am deein'--and it don't matter now."

"Willie's the lad that died last year," Mrs. Bond whispered to Helen.

Mrs. Jenkins had the only dry eyes in the cramped little room. Women do not weep when they are dying. Saliva was still drooling from her mouth, and Mrs. Bond wiped it gently away with a soft rag as she gave her a spoonful of the jelly. The cordial in it soothed her and she closed her eyes again.

"It's the reg'lations about childer," continued Mrs. Bond in a low voice. "Soldiers' wives cannot take their childer wee 'em on a march."

"Where are her children?" Helen asked with trembling lips.

"Wee 'er mother," was the reply. "She was wee 'em hersel' for a week after she came back from Spain. And they say she cut up awful when she 'ad to leave 'em again."