slaypin' loike a Christian whin he's got the chance? Sure, I'll have to
stop his jaundering there, or he'll niver git betther!"

"Stay a moment; he's beginning again, poor fellow," remarked the
colonel, holding up his hand.

"Listen!"

"You villains! take that!" called out the Frenchman in a louder key and
in a tone of anger, as if battling with the blacks on board the _Saint
Pierre_ over again; and then, after a pause we heard a piteous cry. "My
God! they are going to shoot me! Look! Look! To the rescue, colonel,
quickly, quickly, to the rescue."

"Bedad, he's in a bad way entoirely!" said Garry, as he and the colonel,
with myself at their heels, entered the after cabin, where we saw
Captain Alphonse sitting up in the skipper's cot, and gesticulating
frantically. "What can he be after sayin' now, sor?"

"He is going over the boat scene on the poop of our unfortunate vessel,
when the Haytian blacks, as I told you, made at him and the other sailor
before I rushed up from below, too late to save him, poor fellow!"
explained the colonel. "He's calling out for help, as I suppose he did
then, though I didn't hear him!"

"It sounds moighty queer, anyhow," continued the Irishman. "Whisht!
There, he's at it again! What does that extraordinary lingo mean now?
I can't make h'id nor tale of it, sor!"

"Hoist the flag immediately! Close furl the main topsail!" exclaimed
the poor wounded man in short jerky sentences, as he sat up there in the
swinging cot, with his hands tearing at the bandage that was bound round
his head, looking as if he had just risen from the dead, and reminding
me of a picture I once saw depicting the raising of Lazarus. His eyes
were rolling, too, in wild delirium, and after gazing at us fixedly for
a second or two without a sign of recognition on his pallid face, he
fell back prostrate again on the mattress, crying out in a pitiful wail,
"Alas, for the ship! Too late, too late, too late."

"Heavens!" said the colonel, turning to Garry. "Can't you do anything
for him?"

"I'll put somethin' coolin' on the dressin', an' that'll make the poor
chap's h'id aisier," replied the other, suiting the action to the word.
"Ice, sure, 'ud be betther; but, faith, there isn't a morsel aboard!"

Whatever he did apply, however, had a quieting influence, and presently,
after tossing from side to side convulsively, Captain Alphonse closed
his great staring eyes and began to snore stertorously.

"Heav