"Revelations! Did I not say that one—one at least—of these men was mad?"
"You shall not be sent forward," continued the captain, "among my crew, however congenial some of their spirits may be."
"What, then?" asked Hawkshaw, with undisguised alarm.
"You shall be secluded between decks till the end of the voyage, or be sent on shore at the first land we make, in the hope that we may never see you more."
"At the Cape of Good Hope?" asked Hawkshaw eagerly.
"I do not mean to touch at the Cape now, as we are so far to the southward of it," replied the captain, little foreseeing that this information was to have a fatal influence over all on board.
"Sir," replied Hawkshaw, gathering courage for a moment, "may I remind you that my passage to the Isle of France——"
"Is paid for, you would say?"
"Yes—carambi!"
"By Mr. Ashton's money. Ha! ha! I have known of a man being marooned on a rock in the Gulf of Florida—aye, or set adrift on a hencoop, or in a punt, with three biscuits and a bottle of water, in the middle of the South Pacific—a poor devil who was far less criminal than you. I would to Heaven we had never seen you. No ship with such a thorough-bred rascal on board could hope for a prosperous voyage; and," continued the captain angrily, as his professional superstitions came to memory, "the fact of having you with us sufficiently accounts for the loss of our foremast after passing the Madeira Isles, for the mysterious loss of poor Manfredi, and the head winds we have uniformly encountered. Why, damme! we might as well have had a parson, or an undocked Tom cat aboard. Seclusion from among us is a punishment slight indeed for the crimes of which you have been guilty, but chiefly for your double and dastardly attempts upon the life of that young gentleman. You understand me, sir."