After a time, the slaves came in and carried them all to their respective beds, leaving them to their own reflections, and the violent effects of the drugs administered, which left them no repose for that night, and in a state of utter exhaustion on the following morning.
At daylight I went into Mr Dott’s room with the surgeon, to whom I had confided the secret. Tommy was a miserable object.
“Thank heaven! here is one still alive,” said the surgeon to me.
“Oh! Captain Keene,” said Tommy, “I’m glad to see that you are so well; but you had the remedy given you long before we had.”
“Yes,” replied I, “it was given me in good time; but I hope it was not too late with you.”
“I feel very bad,” replied Tommy. “Doctor, do you think I shall live?”
The doctor felt his pulse, and looked very grave; at last he said, “If you get over the next twelve hours, I think you may.”
“How many are dead?” inquired Tommy.
“I don’t know; you are the first that I have visited; it’s a shocking business.”
“I’ve been thinking that we were very wrong,” said Tommy; “we ought not to have driven the poor woman to desperation. If I do recover, her death will be on my conscience.”