“Ask the young lady to go for'ard, mister, will you?” he said, turning his haggard eyes upon the trader's face. “I feel as 'ow I'm goin', an' I said I would make a clean breast of it. But I don't want 'er to 'ear; do ye twig, mister, though I'll tell you and Mr. Hatkins?”
Harvey nodded, and whispered to Tessa to go for'ard. “The poor little beggar is dying, Tessa, and has something to tell me.”
Tessa and Maoni went for'ard and sat down under the shade of the newly-made mainsail, which was hoisted upon an oar with a bamboo yard. There they were quite out of hearing of the vile confession of Jessop's complicity with Chard and the captain made by the wretched man, who was now sinking fast, and knew that his hours were numbered, for, as Morrison had surmised, one of his lungs was fatally injured. And when he had finished the low-spoken tale of his villainy even the rough-natured Atkins was filled with pity when he saw how the poor wretch was suffering, both physically and mentally.
“You've done right, Jessop, in telling us this; it'll be all the better for you when you have to stand before the Almighty, won't it, Mr. Carr?”
“Yes, indeed, Jessop,” said Harvey kindly; “and I wish we could do something to alleviate your pain, poor fellow!”
“Never mind, sir. You're a gent if ever there was one, and you 'as taken away a lot o' the pain I've 'ad in me 'eart by forgivin' me. And perhaps the young lady will just let me tell 'er I'm sorry, and give me 'er 'and before I go.”
Atkins beckoned to Tessa, who came quickly aft and knelt beside the dying man, who looked into her soft, sympathetic face longingly yet fearfully.
“I'm a bad lot, miss, as Mr. Carr will tell you when I'm dead. It was me that give you and Monny the drugged coffee, and I want you to forgive me, an' give me your 'and.”
Tessa looked wonderingly at Harvey, who bent towards her and whispered a few words. In an instant she took Jessop's hand between both of hers.
“Poor Jessop,” she said softly, “I forgive you freely, and I do hope you will get better soon.”