“Ah, it may be so; but I am too far gone, do you see? I aint to be piloted into port by any of his kidney, and so it’s no use mincing matters. I didn’t interfere with him when he let go the jawing tackle; because why—it aint no manner of use. Just heaven, what would I give to be clean out of these waters!”
“And then, if you succeeded in doing so, you would not be much better off, perhaps.”
“Shouldn’t I? You allow me to be the best judge of that. No better off, indeed! I tell you what it is, Walter—you don’t know why I yearn for liberty so much.”
“I confess I do not.”
The pirate shook his head.
“Ah, that’s where it is,” said he.
“Why, you must have led a strange life, I should say,” observed the young man, “and been witness of scenes that were no doubt of a harrowing nature.”
“I’ve passed through a deal more than I could ever tell you—have sailed to almost every port in the world, and have had a hard time of it occasionally, but it’s all over now—Walter, all!”
“Come, take some of this beef-tea,” said his attendant, drawing to the bedside of the sufferer.
Murdock, with great difficulty, sat half up, his back and shoulders supported by pillows, and partook of some refreshment, which he seemed to enjoy.