He stooped over the bunk. A man was lying in it, crumpled into a dreadful heap. He stooped lower, looked, and saw the man's face.
There was a shout from the deck, or, rather, a yell. Then more yells and the sound of running feet.
“Mr. Ellery!” screamed Burgess, at the hatchway. “Mr. Ellery, for the Almighty's sake, come up here! Come out of that this minute. Quick!”
The minister knew what was coming, was sure of it as he stepped to the foot of the ladder, had known it the instant he saw that face.
“Mr. Ellery!” shrieked Burgess. “Mr. Ellery, are you there?”
“Yes, I'm here,” answered the minister, slowly. He was fighting with all his might to keep his nerves under control. His impulse was to leap up those steps, rush across that deck, spring into the dory and row, anywhere to get away from the horror of that forecastle.
“Come up!” called Burgess. “Hurry! It's the smallpox! The darned hooker's rotten with it. For God sakes, come quick!”
He ran to the rail, yelling order to Bill and Thoph, who were frantically busy with the dory. Ellery began to climb the ladder. His head emerged into the clean, sweet air blowing across the deck. He drew a breath to the very bottom of his lungs.
Then from behind and below him came the voice again.
“Gimme a drink!” it wailed. “Gimme a drink of water. Ain't one of you cussed swabs got decency enough to fetch me a drink? I'm dyin' for a drink, I tell you. I'm dyin'!”