It is equally true, also, that the dead man had doubtless, for the greater portion of his career, led an evil life. He had been a lawless freebooter, who, from a moral point of view, had very little to recommend him, and was, therefore, deserving of very little sympathy; but Knoulton knew only the best and most favourable side of his character, and he had always evinced a great liking for the old pirate or smuggler. Possibly this might be in some reason attributable to Murdock’s being shunned and despised by the other prisoners, who were, however, greatly in dread of him. To Knoulton, however, he had been uniformly kind, and this was proved by the last request he had made. To trace the secret springs of the human heart is beyond the skill or power of man, and, strange as it may appear, Walter Knoulton felt as acutely the loss of his fellow-prisoner as many men feel the loss of a dearly-loved relative.
“He is gone,” murmured the young man. “Who can say whether he has passed away, and will not trouble any of us further?”
He glanced at the features of the dead man, which were so calm and peaceful, without any expression of pain on them, and heaved a deep sigh.
Then he bethought him of the paper with the rough draft thereon, and at once proceeded to secrete it beneath his flannel shirt.
It would not be intelligible to any one but himself, and even if the prison authorities discovered it, the chances were that it would not be taken from him if he told them that it was given him as a keepsake from his deceased friend, so he had but little fear as far as the chart was concerned.
But presently a sort of superstitious fear seemed to creep over him, and so powerful was this influence that he thought the eyes of the dead pirate moved. This was but imagination, but it exercised a powerful influence over him.
Young Knoulton had attended on sick persons for the greater portion of the time he had been a prisoner, but he had never before had a patient die under his hands.
It was the first time he had been in the presence of death, and as he glanced at the rigid features of the dead pirate, his heart beat audibly, and a horrible fear seemed to creep over him.
Everything was so still; no sound struck upon his ears; not a faint murmur of any sort; he would have been thankful if he could have heard the faintest indication of a human voice, or any articulate sentence uttered by a living creature. He was for some time so overcome that he found it impossible to rise from his seat, but remained sad and thoughtful till the unbroken silence became oppressively painful.
Presently he thought he detected some movement from without, as of a warder passing almost noiselessly along the corridor.