“‘Poor old O’Brady,’ said Brackenbury, while telling the story, ‘tumbled on top of him, but I got the leg, and with it I quickly smashed the other. In less than a minute both were senseless, and we bound them hand and foot with the very cords they would have strangled us with.’
“Dolosa was shot, his house was fired, for the Adelaide’s men had come in time.
“In two weeks more Brackenbury told me the Adelaide had rounded the Horn, and was bearing merrily up for home, with a spanking breeze and stunsails set. For ships could sail in those days.”
Everybody thanked the doctor for his story, and now, as it was wearing late, as they had passed—
“The wee short hour ayout the twal.”
Good-nights were said, and hands were shaken, and in half an hour all but those on watch were sound asleep or dreaming of their far-off homes.
The southern stars were very bright; there was not a sound to be heard save the lapping of the waves at the ship’s side, the far-off beating of the eternal tom-toms, or the occasional shrill shriek of an Arab sentinel walking his rounds within the palace walls.