"Duar na Criosd!" muttered one, an Irisher like the mate. "There is no doubt of it, Eoghan! I have seen it before, and I tell you that unless Ruadh has green stuff in plenty, he will die! It is the scurvy, and we have naught aboard to fight it with."
"Scurvy an' you like," replied the other sullenly, "but I say it is the old wizard whom we took aboard. Do you mind the tale of Jonah in the Scriptures? Do you mind how the sheep began to die when he came, and how he brought the gale with him?"
There was a little silence, and I felt my heart sound against my ribs as I began to comprehend their words.
"Like enough," answered the first with an oath. "But the scurvy is upon us, and we be all dead men, Eoghan, unless we fetch land right soon. Nor is the manner of that rotting death pleasant, and with this he described the workings of scurvy until my flesh creeped.
"Then let us have this Jonah overboard," cried out the other man on a sudden, and despair was in his voice. "Gib o' Clarclach is with us, and the rest. Black Michael matters not; put this wizard overside and we will have fair weather again. Who ever heard tell of such gales at this season?"
Which same was true enough, and I even wondered a trifle if the man might not be right.
"Stay," returned the first. "I have a better plan. The old wizard sleeps in the cabin aft, with the captain. I will slip in there this very night, when the watch is changed, and have my knife in him and out again. Let the elder lay it to the Lord's vengeance an' he will, being overfond of such talk."
At this the other man laughed shortly, but I crept very silently across the heaving deck to the cabin, and there was great fear in my heart for all of us.