At this moment the captain appeared on deck to relieve the bos'un, who, bidding them "good-night," went forrard. Veneda had grown suddenly silent, and when he had ensconced Juanita in a sheltered spot (for the wind was beginning to freshen), fell to pacing the deck as if he had something upon his mind. Once he stopped and spoke in a low voice to the captain; then he resumed his tramp, pausing now and again to lean against the bulwark and scan the moon-lit sea. About four bells (ten o'clock), Juanita declared her intention of going below, and he assisted her down the gangway. As he bade her good-night, she was struck by the change that had come over his face; he was deathly pale, and his eyes had a look that was very foreign to their usual state.
"Marcos," she said anxiously, steadying herself against the cuddy table, "there's something the matter with you; for heaven's sake take medicine at once; your face frightens me. Don't delay an instant! Oh! if anything should happen to you now!"
He laughed, and said huskily—
"Do you think you would care, my beauty? I rather doubt it." (Here he caught sight of his face in the glass.) "My God, but my face is bad though. I'll go and consult the skipper."
He turned towards the companion, but he was unable to reach it. He tottered, stretched his hands out feebly for the bulkhead, missed it, and fell prone upon the cuddy floor. With a scream Juanita sprang past him, and dashed up on deck. The skipper was beside the binnacle.
"Oh, captain!" she cried, "come quickly; he's dying, he's dying!"
It did not take the captain long to understand to whom she referred; the words were hardly uttered before he had passed the order for the bos'un to come aft and take charge, and was down in the cuddy, kneeling beside the sick man. The mysterious disease had found another victim.
Veneda's face was distorted almost beyond recognition; his limbs were strangely twisted and cramped; his breath came in great gasps; only his skin retained its extraordinary pallor. Juanita understood the captain to say that the symptoms were the same as in each of the previous cases.
Between them they carried him to his bunk.
"Now, ma'am," said Boulger, turning to Juanita, "I'm sorry, but I'll just have to trouble you to go to your own berth for a while. I can't have you running any risks here. Mr. Veneda's quite safe in my hands, and I'll let you know from time to time how he gets on."