"Ay, better now," exclaimed the Captain, receiving the fruit. "Now tell Bill Stacy I want him:—why does he shrink from the sight of death?"
"He shrinks not from death, but has gone to bring you a priest," said the girl. "The Virgin grant you may yet live!"
She then as noiselessly departed, and once more left the dying man to his own reflections.
His thoughts were far from enviable; he felt perhaps remorse—for it was not repentance nor grief—for his crimes; and as he recalled them all, the long dark catalogue seemed endless,—terrific! Deeds of rapine and murder long forgotten revived like adders, and stung him once more;—but it was the agony of lost despair—the echoes of horrid crimes!
From these thoughts he was roused by the entrance of Bill Stacy, and with him a Roman Catholic priest.
"Ha! Bill! you are come at last. Egad! I thought you had clean forgotten a wounded mate. But who the devil have you got there? Where did you pick up yon shaveling?—and why bring you accursed priests to my bed?"
"Your cable is nigh run out; I thought you would like a chaplain mayhap, and brought this fellow along—for I had hard work to prevail on the cussed fool to venture his head here;—but here he is; and he knows a yarn o' long prayers!"
"My son," said the priest, looking heavenwards as he crossed himself, "look on this blessed sign, and ere life takes wing, ask the bless—"
But he was cut short by the Captain.
"Cease your drivelling—idiotical nonsense, or preach to others who believe your fables. Egad, you think me dying, but I'll come it yet. Away, old dotard!"