The next mail was sure to bring the last tidings of one who had
given his life for right and justice. It was only a reprieve that
what it actually brought was the intelligence that he was still
alive, and more sensible, and had been able to take much pleasure in
seeing the friend of his youth, Captain Coles, who was there with
his ship, the Douro. Then there had been a relapse. Captain Coles
had brought his doctor to see him, and it had been pronounced that
the best chance of saving him was a sea-voyage. The Douro had just
received orders to return to England, and Coles had offered to take
home both the friends as guests, though there was evidently little
hope that our brother would reach any earthly home. As we knew
afterwards, he had smiled and said it was like rehabilitation to
have the chance of dying on board one of H.M. ships. And he was
held in such respect, and was so entirely one of the leading men of
the little growing colony, and had been known as such a friend to
the naval men, and had so gallantly aided a Queen's ship in that
hurricane, that his passage home in this manner only seemed a
natural tribute of respect. A few last words from Lawrence told us
that he was safely on board, all unconscious of the silent, almost
weeping, procession that had escorted his litter to the Douro's
boat, only too much as if it were his bier.
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