“What, old physicker!” (for ’twas Surgeon Burke), “‘Throw physic to the dogs, I’ll none of it!’”
He laughed boisterously at the return; then bade me follow him below, saying that the English castaway was coming out of his swoon. We went quickly to the master’s cabin, where the Englishman lay stretched upon a day-bed or settee. But, instead of the stark and deadly look he had before, his breast heaved to a gentle respiration, his eyes were closed, and there was even a trace of colour in his hollow cheeks.
“When he wakes,” said Burke, “he’ll be recovered, and that will be no great while either.”
But in this point he was out; for the exhausted man continued in his babe-like sleep. At last, being perfectly tired out, I cast myself down upon the bedding on the floor, and took up my repose. Yet I could not presently sleep; for my thoughts were tumultuous and uneasy to the last degree, running continually upon those strange happenings—more especially upon the desire manifested by Ouvery to make away with the castaways and strange recognition of him by the Mosquito Indian. However, at last I slept.
It must have been upon the stroke of midnight that I woke up suddenly from an unquiet sleep, to hear the sound of stealthy footsteps in the gang-way without.
I listened, my heart beginning to thump upon my sides, my eyes upon the door. The handle turned slowly; the door was softly opened. Then, half-closing my eyes, I feigned slumber, as, vivid in moonshine cast through the port, the face of Ouvery appeared in the chink.
The Quartermaster stood peering and listening. He entered, and advanced on me; and there was a knife in his hand. Yet I continued to feign slumber, and, though near dead with terror, to make my breathing appear regular and slow.
At last he was at my side. I opened my eyes then, ready to evade a deadly thrust, and lo! the man was passed by me and moving towards the Englishman on the bed. On that my nerve came back to me; the spell was broken.
I made one leap of it half across the cabin floor; and, as the Quartermaster, his face set in savage lines, his arm drawn back to thrust, bent over the slumbering Englishman, quick as light I snatched the pistol from his belt and set it close and firm to his ear.
“Drop your blade,” said I, “or I’ll fire.”