“Rosco,” said the youth, as he knelt by the pirate’s couch, “your sins have been severely punished, and your endurance sorely tried—”
“Not more than I deserve, Orlando.”
“But I grieve to tell you that your courage must be still further tried. The doctor says that both feet must be amputated.”
A frown gathered on the pirate’s face, and he compressed his lips for a few moments.
“And the alternative?” he asked.
“Is death.”
Again there was a brief pause. Then he said slowly, almost bitterly—
“Oh, death! you have hovered over my head pretty steadily of late! It is a question whether I had not better let you come on and end these weary struggles, rather than become a hopeless cripple in the prime of life! Why should I fear death now more than before?”
“Have you any hope of eternal life, Rosco?”
“How can I tell? What do I know about eternal life!”