had a gone feeling at the pit of the stomach, and suffered from faintness
and numbness. At his command, the man took the baler and threw salt
water into his face.

The _Athenian's_ anchor was up-and-down when they came alongside, and
Churchill was at the end of his last remnant of strength.

"Stop her! Stop her!" he shouted hoarsely.

"Important message! Stop her!"

Then he dropped his chin on his chest and slept. When half a dozen men
started to carry him up the gang-plank, he awoke, reached for the grip,
and clung to it like a drowning man.

On deck he became a centre of horror and curiosity. The clothing in
which he had left White Horse was represented by a few rags, and he was
as frayed as his clothing. He had travelled for fifty-five hours at the
top notch of endurance. He had slept six hours in that time, and he was
twenty pounds lighter than when he started. Face and hands and body were
scratched and bruised, and he could scarcely see. He tried to stand up,
but failed, sprawling out on the deck, hanging on to the gripsack, and
delivering his message.

"Now, put me to bed," he finished; "I'll eat when I wake up."

They did him honour, carrying him down in his rags and dirt and
depositing him and Bondell's grip in the bridal chamber, which was the
biggest and most luxurious state-room in the ship. Twice he slept the
clock around, and he had bathed and shaved and eaten and was leaning over