“Do more harm than good,” he muttered. “When I was in orspittle, I remember old Morley said that sleep was the something that did something to set wounded fellows up again, and if I got sopping his head, poor chap! it would wake him up as sure as eggs is eggs.” Then he went down on his knees, picked up the cocoa-nut cup, filled it to the brim, and very slowly trickled the contents down his throat. “Hah!” he sighed. “Lovely!” as he held up the empty cup. “That’s just the sort of stuff as would do old Joe Smithers a world of good.—Thankye; yes, I will take another, as you are so pressing;” and with a contented grin upon his dirty face, grimed with perspiration and the dried stains from a cut, he refilled the shell cup, drank the contents, replaced the little vessel balanced upside-down upon the edge of the rough earthen jar, and then swung himself round into a sitting position, wincing and half-groaning with pain as he did so, leant his aching head against the thickly plaited palm wall, and reached out for the basket, from which he picked one of the largest golden plantains.
“There’s plenty,” he said softly, “and three of them just about ought to set me up.”
Then methodically breaking off the end of the one he had chosen, he began to strip off the thick skin, letting each portion hang over his hand, as the creamy, white, vegetable-like fruit became bared half-way down; and then, with a sigh, he took a bite.
“That second cup of Adam’s ale was better than the first,” he said appreciatively, “and this ’ere’s the best banana I ever nibbled. We used to say at home that they was like tallow candle and sleepy pear, but this one—my word, it’s heavenly!”
He took another bite, munching it slowly, with his head sinking down gently as if to meet his hand, which came up with some effort, ready for the next bite; and then, with his lower jaw impeded by resting upon his chest, it ceased to move, the hand that held the banana sank into his lap, the half-peeled fruit escaped from his fingers, and not one of the many Malay words that he was about to remember obtained utterance, for after the watching and disturbed sleep of nights, Nature would do no more, and Peter Pegg was sleeping more deeply than he had ever slept in his life before.
Chapter Eighteen.
Peter’s Friend.
Phoonk! Then a peculiar squeal and grunting sound, and then once again, Phoonk!