danger I might incur,
and make the only reparation in my power to those who, if still alive, I
have deprived of their property. Now, notwithstanding what you say,
there's something tells me that I have not long to live. I never had
such a notion in my head before, but there it is now, and I cannot get
rid of it. You are young and strong, and I want you to promise me, if
you get home, to do what I ought to have done long ago. I will give you
the case when we go below. Take it to the lawyer to whom it is
addressed, and tell him all I have told you, and how it came into your
possession, he'll believe you, I am sure, and though the money and most
of the jewels are gone, the remainder will, I hope, be of value to the
rightful owners."

I of course promised old Tom that I would do as he wished, at the same
time I tried to persuade him to banish the forebodings which haunted
him, from his mind. "That's more than I can do, Jack," he said, "I
shouldn't mind the thoughts of death so much, if I could find the means
of undoing all the ill I have done in the world--that's what tries me
now." Unhappily neither I nor any one on board could tell the poor
fellow that there is but one way by which sins can be washed away. I
did indeed suggest that he should try and borrow a Bible from one of the
gentlemen in the cabin, if they had one among them, for there was not
one for'ard nor in the captain's or officers' berths.

When our watch was over, old Tom sat down on his chest, waiting till the
rest of the watch had turned in and gone to sleep. He then cautiously
opened his chest, and exhibited within, under his clothes, a small box,
strongly bound with silver, and the metal case he had spoken of. "Here,
Jack," he said, "I make you my heir, and give you the key of my chest:
I'll tell the men to-morrow that I have done so, and let the captain and
mates know it also, that there may be no dispute about the matter." I
thanked old Tom, assuring him, at the same time, that I hoped not to
benefit by his kindness.

In about three weeks we reached the mouth of the Columbia river. A
strong gale from the westward had been blowing for several days, and as
we came off the river a tremendous surf was seen breaking across the bar
at its mouth. "I hope the captain won't attempt to take the vessel in,"
observed old Tom to me. "I have been in once while the sea was not so
heavy by half as it is now, and our ship was nearly castaway." Still we