he did not read the Bible while there. He merely
communed with his own spirit, meditated sadly on the past, and wondered
a good deal as to the probable future.

"It's not that I ain't happy enough here," he muttered softly to himself
one evening, while he gazed wistfully at the horizon as Christian had
been wont to gaze. "I'm happy enough--more so than what I deserve to
be, God knows--with them good--natured women an' jolly bit things of
child'n, but--but I'm awful hard up for a chum! I do believe that if
Bill McCoy, or even Matt Quintal, was here, I'd get along pretty well
with either of 'em. Ah, poor Quintal! I feel as if I'd never git over
that. If it wasn't murder, it feels awful like it; an' yet I can't see
that they could call it murder. If we hadn't done it he would certainly
have killed both me an' Mr Young, for Matt never threatened without
performin', and then he'd have gone mad an' done for the women an'
child'n as well. No, it wasn't murder. It was necessity."

He remained silent for some time, and then his thoughts appeared to
revert to the former channel.

"If only a ship would come an' be wrecked here, now, we could start
fresh once more with a new lot maybe, but I'm not so sure about that
either. P'r'aps we'd quarrel an' fight an' go through the bloody
business all over again. No, it's better as it is. But a ship might
touch in passin', an' we could prevail on two or three of the crew, or
even one, to stop with us. What would I not give to hear a man's voice
once more, a good growlin' bass. I wouldn't be partickler as to
sentiments or grammar, not I, if it was only gruff, an' well spiced with
sea-lingo an' smelt o' baccy. Not that I cares for baccy myself now, or
grog either. Humph! it do make me a'most laugh to think o' the times
I've said, ay, and thought, that I couldn't git along nohow without my
pipe an' my glass. Why, I wouldn't give a chip of a brass farden for a
pipe now, an' as to grog, after what I've seen of its cursed natur', I
wouldn't taste a drop even if they was to offer to make me Lord High
Admiral o' the British fleet for so doin'. But I _would_ like once more
to see a bearded man; even an unbearded one would be better than
nothin'. Ah, well, it's no manner o' use sighin', any more than cryin',
over spilt milk. Here I am, an' I suppose here I shall be to the end o'
the chapter."

Again he was silent for a long time, while his eyes remained fixed, as
usual, on th