Free This Golden Land by Barbara Wood

is no place for you, Mr. Scott."
         Neal found where Mrs. Ritchie had been laid, and he knelt next to her, holding the photograph up for her to see. Everyone fell silent as they wondered what the gentleman was up to.
         They saw Agnes wipe her eyes and frown at the piece of paper that looked like it had a picture of some sort on it. They saw her squint at it, and then look more closely, her expression turning to one of puzzlement. They saw her blink. Her mouth opened. Her eyes widened. And then they saw all the lines and shadows vanish from her face. "Why . . ." she said in a whisper, reaching for the photograph and bringing it closer. "It's my Donny." She looked at Neal in wonder. "How did you do this, sir?"
         "It's called photography, Mrs. Ritchie."
         Agnes looked at the picture again. "Look how peaceful he seems. Like he isn't sick at all."
         Agnes's friends helped her to sit up, and then crowded around to gawk at the picture. Soon it was being passed from hand to hand, as everyone stared and remarked and marveled over the likeness Donny Ritchie. Many who had never seen a photograph turned it over to look at the back, to see where the image was coming from.
         Neal found himself smiling. Watching the picture go from man to woman to child, passed around and back again to Agnes Ritchie, who filled her eyes with Donny's face and then passed the picture around once more—to feel their excitement and joy made Neal Scott's heart warm in a way it had not in a very long time.
         Agnes Ritchie looked up at him then and said, "God bless you, sir," in her thick Scottish brogue. "I know now that my Donny will get better. Just look how healthy he is here. There is a place in heaven for you, sir, and that's the truth."
         Neal modestly accepted everyone's praise, including that of Captain Llewellyn who said that, for now, the mutiny had been averted, adding cautiously that it still depended on whether the boy lived or not. Then Neal returned to the sick bay, to give Hannah the good news. He found Dr. Applewhite there, examining Donny. When the doctor told Hannah she could leave, Hannah insisted upon staying. And as there was little room for the doctor and his girth, Applewhite retreated to his own cabin for a much needed rest.
         Neal brought in a small wooden chair for Hannah, but she said, "It won't fit. There's no room."
         "But you can't sit on the floor all night, Miss Conroy."
         "I shall be fine, Mr. Scott."
         He left again, to return with the two pillows from his own bunk. "Then at least sit on these." And Hannah gratefully made a cushioned seat for herself, her pearl-gray skirts billowing out around her, making Neal think of a cloud.
         Situating the chair in the doorway, he took a seat and watched as Hannah placed her ear to Donny's chest. She could hear his heart fluttering like a tiny sparrow struggling to get out.
         "What are his chances?" Neal asked quietly, listening to the hammering of his own heart. His emotions were heightened and he did not know why. It had to do with the strange, nameless feelings Mrs. Ritchie had aroused in him—well, Mrs. Ritchie at first, but now Hannah Conroy as she sat so devotedly at Donny's side. Neal Scott, scientist and explorer, a man who believed that everything in the universe could be measured, quantified, and categorized, was at a complete loss to identify the alien emotions that had invaded him today.
         "Dr. Applewhite said the next few hours are crucial," Hannah said. "If I can wake Donny enough times to get water into him, he will be fine by morning. But the smelling salts are having less effect on him. I think his lungs are becoming used to the shock from the chemical."
         Daylight waned and Simms the steward brought Neal and Hannah a dinner of sausages, potatoes and peas, with wine and bread and butter, but their trays went untouched. He asked about the boy, reported on the