For two days Noddy suffered severely from seasickness, and Mollie was full of tenderness and sympathy.  Captain McClintock still mocked the poor child’s hopes, and still broke the promises which should have been sacred, for he was intoxicated each day.  On the second, while Noddy was lying in his berth, the captain, rendered brutal by the last dram he had taken, came out of his state-room, and halted near the sick boy.

“What are you in there for, you young sculpin?” said he.  “Why are you not on deck, attending to your duty?”

“I am sick, sir,” replied Noddy, faintly.

“Sick!  We don’t want any skulking of that sort on board this vessel.  You want to shirk your duty.  Turn out lively, and go on deck.”

“But he is sick, father,” said Mollie.

“Go away, Mollie.  You will spoil the boy.  Come, tumble out, youngster, or I shall bring down the rope’s end,” replied the captain.

The daughter pleaded for her patient; but the father was ugly and unreasonable, and persisted in his purpose.  Noddy did not feel able to move.  He was completely prostrated by the violence of his disagreeable malady; and five minutes before, he would not have considered it possible for him to get out of his berth.  He must do so now or be whipped; for there was no more reason in the captain than there was in the main-mast of the schooner.  He was not able to make any resistance, if he had been so disposed.

It was very hard to be obliged to go on deck when he was sick, especially as there was no need of his services there.  He raised his head, and sat upright in the berth.  The movement seemed completely to overturn his stomach again.  But what a chance this was, thought he, to show poor Mollie that he was in earnest, and to convince her that he had really reformed his manners.  With a desperate struggle he leaped out of his berth, and put on his jacket.  The Roebuck was still pitching heavily, and it was almost impossible for him to keep on his feet.  He had hardly tasted food for two days, and was very weak from the effects of his sickness.

He crawled on deck as well as he was able, followed by Captain McClintock, who regarded him with a look of malignant triumph.  Poor Noddy felt like a martyr; but for Mollie’s sake, he was determined to bear his sufferings with patience and resignation, and to obey the captain, even if he told him to jump overboard.  He did what was almost as bad as this, for he ordered the sick boy to swab up the deck ­an entirely useless operation, for the spray was breaking over the bow of the Roebuck, and the water was rushing in torrents out of the lee scuppers.  But Noddy, true to his resolution, obeyed the order, and dragged his weary body forward to perform his useless task.  For half an hour he labored against nature and the elements, and of course accomplished nothing.  It was all “work” and no “win.”

A boy who had the resolution and courage to face a dozen angry fellows as large as himself, certainly ought not to lack the power to overcome the single foe that beset him from within.  Noddy was strong enough for the occasion, even in his present weakly condition.  It was hard work, but the victory he won was a satisfactory reward.

The captain’s vision was rather imperfect in his present state, and he took it into his head that the foretop-gallant sail was straining the topmast.  Mr. Watts respectfully assured him the topmast was strong enough to stand the strain; but the master was set in his own opinion.  Apparently his view was adopted for the occasion, for he ordered Noddy to go aloft and furl the sail.  Mollie protested when she heard this order, for she was afraid Noddy was so weak that he would fall from the yard.  The cabin-boy, strong in the victory he had just won, did not even remonstrate against the order; but, with all the vigor he could command, he went up the fore-rigging.  He was surprised to find how much strength an earnest spirit lent to his weak body.

The pitching of the Roebuck rendered the execution of the order very difficult to one unaccustomed to the violent motion of a vessel in a heavy sea; but in spite of all the trials which lay in his path, he furled the sail.  When he came down to the deck, the captain had gone below again, and the weary boy was permitted to rest from his severe labors.  Instead of being overcome by them, he actually felt better than when he had left his berth.  The fresh air, and the conquest of the will over the feeble body, had almost wrought a miracle in his physical frame.  The mate told him that what he had done was the best thing in the world for seasickness; in fact, earnest exertion was the only remedy for the troublesome complaint.

At supper-time Noddy took some tea and ate a couple of ship biscuits with a good relish.  He began to feel like a new person, and even to be much obliged to the captain for subjecting him to the tribulations which had wrought his cure.  The next morning he ate a hearty breakfast, and went to his work with the feeling that “oft from apparent ills our blessings rise.”

The captain kept sober during the next five days, owing, it was believed by Noddy, to the influence of his daughter, who had the courage to speak the truth to him.  Shortly after the departure of the Roebuck, it had been ascertained that, from some impurity in the casks, the water on board was not fit for use; and the captain decided to put into Barbadoes and procure a fresh supply.  When the schooner took a pilot, on the twelfth day out, it was found that the yellow fever was making terrible ravages in the island; but the water was so bad on board that the captain decided to go into port and remain long enough to procure new casks and a supply of water.  If he had been entirely sober, he would undoubtedly have turned his bow at once from the infected island.

The Roebuck came to anchor, and the captain, regardless of his own safety, went on shore to transact the business.  The casks were purchased, but it was impossible to get them on board before the next morning, and the vessel was compelled to remain at anchor over night.  The weather was excessively hot in the afternoon, but towards night a cool breeze came in from the sea, which was very refreshing; and Noddy and Mollie were on deck, enjoying its invigorating breath.  The boat in which the captain had just returned lay at the accommodation ladder.  The confinement of twelve days on board the vessel had been rather irksome, and both of the young people would have been delighted to take a run on shore; but the terrible sickness there rendered such a luxury impossible.  They observed with interest everything that could be seen from the deck, especially the verdure-crowned hills, and the valleys green with the rich vegetation of the country.

If they could not go on shore, they could at least move about a little in the boat, which would be some relief from the monotony of their confined home.  They got into the boat with a warning from Mr. Watts not to go far from the schooner, and not to approach any other vessel, which might have the yellow fever on board.  Noddy sculled about on the smooth water for a time, till it was nearly dark, and Mollie thought it was time to return on board.  As she spoke, she went forward and stood up in the bow of the boat, ready to step upon the accommodation ladder.

“Noddy, do you see these great fishes in the water?” asked she.

“Yes, I see them.”

“Do you know what they are?” continued she, as she turned to receive the answer.

She was accustomed to boats, and her familiarity with them made her as fearless as her companion.

“I never saw any like them before,” replied Noddy, still sculling the boat towards the Roebuck.

“What do you think they are?” added she, with one of those smiles which children wear when they are conscious of being wiser than their companions.

“I haven’t any idea what they are; but they look ugly enough to be snakes.”

“I’ve seen lots of them before, and I know what they are.  I like you very well, Noddy; and I ask you, as a particular favor, not to fall overboard,” said she, with a smile, at what she regarded as a very pretty joke.

“What are they, Mollie?”

“They are sharks, Noddy.”

“Sharks!” exclaimed the boy, who had heard Ben tell awful stories about the voracity of these terrible creatures.

“Yes, they are sharks, and big ones, too.”

“Sit down, Mollie.  I don’t like to see you stand up there.  You might fall overboard,” said Noddy, who actually shuddered as he recalled the fearful stories he had heard about these savage fish.

“I’m not afraid.  I’m just as safe here as I should be on board the Roebuck.  I’ve seen sharks before, and got used to them.  I like to watch them.”

At that moment the boat struck upon something in the water, which might have been a log, or one of the ravenous monsters, whose back fins could be seen above the water, as they lay in wait for their prey.  It was some heavy body, and it instantly checked the progress of the boat, and the sudden stoppage precipitated the poor girl over the bow into the sea.  Noddy’s blood seemed to freeze in his veins as he realized the horrible situation of Mollie in the water, surrounded by sharks.  He expected to see her fair form severed in twain by the fierce creatures.  He could swim like a duck, and his first impulse was to leap overboard, and save the poor girl or perish with her in the attempt.

A shout from the schooner laden with the agony of mortal anguish saluted his ears as Mollie struck the water.  It was the voice of Captain McClintock, who had come on deck, and had witnessed the fearful catastrophe.  The voice went to Noddy’s soul.  He saw the slight form of Mollie as she rose to the surface, and began to struggle towards the boat.  The cabin-boy sculled with all his might for an instant, which brought the boat up to the spot; but he was horrified to see that she was followed by a monstrous shark.  Noddy seized the boat-hook, and sprang forward just as the greedy fish was turning over upon his side, with open mouth, to snap up his prey.

Noddy, aware that the decisive moment for action had come, and feeling, as by instinct, that a miscalculation on his part would be fatal to poor Mollie, poised his weapon, and made a vigorous lunge at the savage fish.  By accident, rather than by design, the boat-hook struck the shark in the eye; and with a fearful struggle he disappeared beneath the surface.  Grasping the extended arm of Mollie, he dragged her into the boat before another of the monsters could attack her.

“O, Noddy!” gasped she, as she sank down upon the bottom of the boat, overcome by terror, rather than by her exertions, ­for she had been scarcely a moment in the water.

“You are safe now, Mollie.  Don’t be afraid,” said Noddy, in soothing tones, though his own utterance was choked by the fearful emotions he had endured.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, I thank thee that thou hast preserved my life, and saved me from the terrible shark,” said Mollie, as she clasped her hands and looked up to the sky.

It was a prayer from the heart, and the good Father seemed to be nearer to Noddy than ever before.  He felt that some other hand than his own had directed the weapon which had vanquished the shark.

“O, Noddy, you have saved me,” cried Mollie, as she rose from her knees, upon which she had thrown herself before she uttered her simple but devout prayer.

“I am so glad you are safe, Mollie!  But was it me that saved you?” asked Noddy, as he pointed up to the sky, with a sincere feeling that he had had very little to do with her preservation, though he was so deeply impressed by the event that he could not utter the sacred name of the Power which in that awful moment seemed to surround him, and to be in his very heart.

“It was God who preserved me,” said she, looking reverently upward again; “but he did it through you; and I may thank you, too, for what you have done.  O, Noddy, you have been my best earthly friend; for what would my poor father have done if the shark had killed me?”

Noddy sculled towards the Roebuck, for he knew that Captain McClintock was anxiously awaiting their return.  When the boat touched the accommodation ladder, the anxious father sprang on board, not knowing even then that his daughter was entirely safe.  He had seen Noddy draw her into the boat, but he feared she had lost a leg or an arm, for he was aware that the harbor swarmed with the largest and fiercest of the merciless “sea-pirates.”

“My poor child!” exclaimed he, as he clasped her in his arms, dreading even then to know the worst.

“Dear father!” replied she.

“Are you hurt?”

“Not at all.”

“Were there any sharks out there?”

“I guess there were!” replied she, significantly.

“One of them had just heeled over to snap at her,” added Noddy.  “I never was so frightened in my life.”

“Good Heaven!” gasped the captain.

“I gave myself up for lost,” said Mollie, shuddering, as she recalled that fearful moment.

“Well, what prevented him from taking hold of you?” asked Captain McClintock, who had not been near enough to discern precisely what had taken place in the boat.

“Noddy saved me, father.  He jammed the boat-hook right into the shark’s head.  In another instant the creature would have had me in his mouth.  O, father, it was such an awful death to think of ­to be bitten by a shark!”

“Horrible!” groaned the father.  “Noddy, your hand!  You and I shall be friends to the last day of my life.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied the heroic boy, as he took the proffered hand.  “I did the best I could; but I was so scared!  I was afraid the shark would catch her in spite of me.”

“God bless you, Noddy!  But come on board, and we will talk it over.”

Captain McClintock handed Mollie, still dripping with water, to Mr. Watts, who had been an interested spectator of the touching scene in the boat; and she was borne to the cabin amid the congratulations of the crew, with whom she was a great favorite.