one day he complained that the ship
was very silent. For hours and hours, he said, he was lying there, not
hearing a sound, till he did not know what to do with himself.

"When Ransome happens to be forward in his galley everything's so still
that one might think everybody in the ship was dead," he grumbled. "The
only voice I do hear sometimes is yours, sir, and that isn't enough to
cheer me up. What's the matter with the men? Isn't there one left that
can sing out at the ropes?"

"Not one, Mr. Burns," I said. "There is no breath to spare on board this
ship for that. Are you aware that there are times when I can't muster
more than three hands to do anything?"

He asked swiftly but fearfully:

"Nobody dead yet, sir?"

"No."

"It wouldn't do," Mr. Burns declared forcibly. "Mustn't let him. If he
gets hold of one he will get them all."

I cried out angrily at this. I believe I even swore at the disturbing
effect of these words. They attacked all the self-possession that was
left to me. In my endless vigil in the face of the enemy I had been
haunted by gruesome images enough. I had had visions of a ship drifting
in calms and swinging in light airs, with all her crew dying slowly
about her decks. Such things had been known to happen.

Mr. Burns met my outburst by a mysterious silence.

"Look here," I said. "You don't believe yourself what you say. You
can't. It's impossible. It isn't the sort of thing I have a right to
expect from you. My position's bad enough without being worried with
your silly fancies."

He remained unmoved. On account of the way in which the light fell on
his head I could not be sure whether he had smiled faintly or not. I
changed my tone.

"Listen," I said. "It's getting so desperate that I had thought for a
moment, since we can't make our way south, whether I wouldn't try to
steer west and make an attempt to reach the mailboat track. We could
always get some quinine from her, at least. What do you think?"

He cried out: "No, no, no. Don't do that, sir. You mustn't for a moment
give up facing that old ruffian. If you do he will get the upper hand of
us."

I left him. He was impossible. It was like a case of possession. His
protest, however, was essentially quite sound. As a matter of fact, my
notion of heading out west on the chance of sighting a problematical
steamer could not bear calm examination. On the side where we were we
had enough wind, at least from time to time, to struggle