ach of them the sum of one thousand pounds for their trouble, and in
token of regard. That will do, Peter. Now, as I have left so much real
property, it is necessary that there should be three witnesses; so call
in two more, and let me sign in your presence."

This order was obeyed, and this strange will duly attested; for I hardly
need say, that even the presents he had pretended to receive were
purchased by himself at different times; but such was the force of his
ruling passion even to the last. Mr Phillott and O'Brien used to come
and see him, as did occasionally some of the other officers, and he was
always cheerful and merry, and seemed to be quite indifferent about his
situation, although fully aware of it. His stories, if anything, became
more marvellous, as no one ventured to express a doubt as to their
credibility.

I had remained in the hospital about a week, when Captain Kearney was
evidently dying: the doctor came, felt his pulse, and gave it as his
opinion that he could not outlive the day. This was on a Friday, and
there certainly was every symptom of dissolution. He was so exhausted,
that he could scarcely articulate; his feet were cold, and his eyes
appeared glazed, and turning upwards. The doctor remained an hour, felt
his pulse again, shook his head, and said to me in a low voice, "He is
quite gone." As soon as the doctor quitted the room, Captain Kearney
opened his eyes, and beckoned me to him. "He's a confounded fool,
Peter," said he: "he thinks I am slipping my wind now--but I know
better; going I am, 'tis true--but I sha'n't die till next Thursday."
Strange to say, from that moment he rallied; and although it was
reported that he was dead, and the admiral had signed the acting order
for his successor, the next morning, to the astonishment of everybody,
Captain Kearney was still alive. He continued in this state, between
life and death, until the Thursday next, the day on which he asserted
that he would die--and, on that morning, he was evidently sinking fast.
Towards noon, his breathing became much oppressed and irregular, and he
was evidently dying, the rattle in his throat commenced; and I watched
at his bedside, waiting for his last grasp, when he again opened his
eyes, and beckoning me, with an effort, to put my head close to him to
hear what he had to say, he contrived in a sort of gurgling whisper, and
with much difficulty, to utter--"Peter, I'm going now--not that the
rattle--in