the
eyes of the coxswain as they followed me derisively about the deck, and
the odd smile that appeared continually on his face. It was a smile that
had in it something both of pain and weakness--a haggard, old man's
smile; but there was, besides that, a grain of derision, a shadow of
treachery, in his expression as he craftily watched, and watched, and
watched me at my work.

CHAPTER XXVI

ISRAEL HANDS

The wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into the west. We could run
so much the easier from the north-east corner of the island to the mouth
of the North Inlet. Only, as we had no power to anchor, and dared not
beach her till the tide had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our
hands. The coxswain told me how to lay the ship to; after a good many
trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence, over another meal.

"Cap'n," said he, at length, with that same uncomfortable smile, "here's
my old shipmate, O'Brien; s'pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain't
partic'lar as a rule, and I don't take no blame for settling his hash;
but I don't reckon him ornamental, now, do you?"

"I'm not strong enough, and I don't like the job; and there he lies, for
me," said I.

"This here's an unlucky ship--this _Hispaniola_, Jim," he went on,
blinking. "There's a power of men have been killed in this
_Hispaniola_--a sight o' poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took
ship to Bristol. I never seen sich dirty luck, not I. There was this here
O'Brien now--he's dead, ain't he? Well, now, I'm no scholar, and you're a
lad as can read and figure; and, to put it straight, do you take it as a
dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?"

"You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit; you must know that
already," I replied. "O'Brien there is in another world, and maybe
watching us."

"Ah!" says he. "Well, that's unfort'nate--appears as if killing parties
was a waste of time. Howsomever, sperrits don't reckon for much, by what
I've seen. I'll chance it with the sperrits, Jim. And now, you've spoke
up free, and I'll take it kind if you'd step down into that there cabin
and get me a--well, a--shiver my timbers! I can't hit the name on't;
well, you get me a bottle of wine, Jim--this here brandy's too strong for
my head."

Now, the coxswain's hesitation seemed to be unnatural; and as for the
notion of his preferring wine to brandy, I entirely disbelieved it. The
whole story was a pretext. He wa