"Yes, sir; all very mortal."
"And even the strongest and boldest ought occasionally to think of their end."
"Quite true, sir; quite true. The strongest and boldest. When do you think we shall get in, gentlemen?"
Captain Truck afterwards affirmed that he was "never before taken so flat aback by a question as by this." Still he extricated himself from the dilemma with dexterity, the spirit of proselytism apparently arising within him in proportion as the other manifested indifference to his offices.
"There is a port to which we are all steering, my dear sir," he said; "and of which we ought always to bear in mind the landmarks and beacons, and that port is heaven."
"Yes," answered Mr Leach, "a port that, sooner or later, will fetch us all up."
Mr. Monday gazed from one to the other, and something like the state of feeling, from which he had been aroused by the cordial, began to return.
"Do you think me so bad, gentlemen?" he inquired, with a little of the eagerness of a startled man.
"As bad as one bound direct to so good a place as I hope and trust is the case with you, can be," returned the captain, determined to follow up the advantage he had gained. "Your wound, we fear, is mortal, and people seldom remain long in this wicked world with such sort of hurts."
"If he stands that," thought the captain, "I shall turn him over, at once, to Mr. Effingham."