"Weel, weel," he said, laughing till the cabin shook, "look at the lad. Is it a mummy I have for cargo?"
I had rolled the blanket from my face and lay there trying to tell him with my eyes to take the gag out of my mouth and release me. He took a huge knife from his pocket and cut my bonds. My hands and arms were numb and my tongue was so swollen that I could not speak.
"My eyes," said the Captain, looking at my blood-covered, disarrayed dress suit, "they've been showing him the country, and he's been singing 'I won't go home until morning.'"
I held out my hands in mute appeal and he understood. He rubbed me with alcohol and gave me brandy to drink. When I found my tongue I rewarded him by berating him soundly.
"Take me back to Bizzett this moment, you scoundrel," I cried.
The Captain was astonished.
"Listen to the ijit," he said. "Young fellow, you're cargo; and cargo don't gie orders. When ye land ye land at Naples."
I pleaded with him, but he laughed at me.
"Better take a bath and ye'll feel more like a mon," he said. "I know there be na bath tubs in that one horse country, but that is na excuse. They ha' water."
He drew the water in the tub for me and helped me into it. Then he got out his medicine chest and patched me up where I had been wounded. He opened my trunk and helped me dress.