The White Squall | Page 9

to Mount Pleasant specially to prescribe
for me!
"Hallo, Doctor Martin!" I exclaimed, recognising him. "What's the
matter with me? I can't rise, or move my legs, or do anything."
"You confounded young rascal!" he rejoined in his hearty voice, "a nice
mess you have got yourself into, alarming us all in this way. What do
you mean by galloping down Constitution Hill as if you were after a
pack of foxhounds? It's a mercy you haven't broken every bone in your
body."
"Poor Prince isn't hurt, is he?" I asked abruptly, without answering him
directly.
"No, Mass' Tom," eagerly cried out Jake, glad of saying something to
me in order to show his sympathy; "he berry well, no scrape um knees
or nuffin', he--"
"There, that will do," said Doctor Martin, interrupting the flow of the
good-natured darkey's eloquence, "you mustn't agitate Master Tom now;
he's in a very critical state, and any excitement is bad for him. You'd
better go and see after the horses."

"Me no want agg-agg-tate um, Mass' Doctor," pitifully expostulated
Jake, almost blubbering at the accusation of his possibly wanting to do
me harm, "I'se only glad to hear him 'peak again, dat all;" and he went
out of the room quite crest-fallen.
"Oh, doctor!" I cried, but then, all at once, a sort of sick sensation came
over me. Dad and Doctor Martin seemed to be waltzing round me, with
the furniture and everything else following suit, and I fainted away
again, I fancy; although I could hear their whispering voices, as of
people who were far away in the distance. Then, there was a blank.
When I next opened my eyes, strange to say, I was in my own little bed
at home, with my mother sitting by my side.
I felt very weak, and one of my arms was tied up in bandages, while my
other limbs didn't seem to belong to me; but, at first, I had no
recollection of what had happened.
I could not imagine what was the reason for my being laid up like that;
and, seeing my mother there, I fancied for the moment that I had
overslept myself, as was frequently the case, and that she had come to
call me for breakfast.
"Why, mother," I said, "I'm sorry I'm so late."
"You've been ill, Tom," she replied soothingly, without referring to my
laziness as I expected; "I'm glad, though, you're recovering at last."
"Hi!" I exclaimed, much astonished.
"Yes, my dear, very ill," she repeated.
"Dear me! and for how long?" I asked, in wonder still.
"Well, it is more than three weeks since you were brought here, dear;
but take this now, Tom," she added, before telling me anything further,
putting her arm round me and lifting me up in a sitting position, so as to
be better able to swallow something in a wine-glass which she held to

my lips.
"Medicine, eh?" I said, making a wry face.
"Yes, dear, but it doesn't taste badly," she whispered coaxingly.
"Besides, Tom, if you won't take it the doctor says you are not to be
allowed to speak, and of course I shall not be able to answer your
questions."
This settled the point; so I at once tossed off the draught she handed me,
which, although slightly bitter, was not nearly as nasty as I thought it
would have been, having a wholesome horror of doctor's mixtures. The
draught, at all events, put fresh vigour into me. It certainly gave me
strength to speak again as soon as I had gulped it down, for I was
fidgeting to know what had occurred.
"Now, mother," I said, "tell me all about it. I can't be quiet till you do.
Have I had the fever again, or what?"
I may mention in explanation of this question of mine that, the year
before, I had been confined to bed with a sharp attack of a sort of
tertian ague, which is the scourge of most tropical countries. This was
the only illness I had ever suffered from in my young life; so, I thought
now that my old enemy had paid me another visit.
"No, dear, you have not had the fever," she answered. "Do you forget
all about going to town to meet your father, and how your pony threw
you over his head at the foot of Constitution Hill?"
Thereupon the whole thing flashed back upon my mind in an instant.
"But how did I get here?" I inquired, puzzled at this part of the affair. "I
remember now about my tumble, and seeing dad and Doctor Martin at
some place in Saint George's, with old Jake crying behind them, but I
don't recollect anything else."
"My boy," said my mother seriously, her lips trembling as