“Why, sir, I likes to have particular notions o’ things in general, as every man as is a man, and thinks like a man, should have, and I must say,” said he, slowly and faintly, “as I’ve a notion, as I’m right down reglarly spiflicated;” and immediately afterwards his head fell upon his shoulder, his back glided from its support, and he fell flat upon the deck.

“Bad look that,” remarked the surgeon, kneeling down beside his patient, whom he proceeded to examine. “Bad look—but ’tis only a swoon. He’ll recover presently, and in the mean time I’ll look at the wound. Ah! unpromising case. Dangerous thrust that; don’t like it by any means, but if he is tractable he may get over it. Well, my friend,” exclaimed Tourniquet, perceiving his patient open his eyes and look wildly about him, “your case is not so desperate as you imagine; and if you are attentive to what I tell you, it’s very possible I shall be able to make you safe and sound again, don’t you see.”

After doing what he thought necessary, he ordered him off to his hammock, and proceeded to the others. Ardent was found suffering from severe fracture of the skull; Climberkin had fainted from loss of blood, having been wounded in nearly a dozen different places, but none of them were dangerous; five others had received the same rough treatment, who were expected to recover, and seven more were either dead or dying. As Doctor Tourniquet was placing a bandage on the last of his patients, he heard the pirates, who had been joining in a wild uproar the whole of the time he had been engaged upon the wounded, shouting as loud as they could bawl,—

“We stifle ev’ry cry,
Ev’ry cry, ev’ry cry,
We stifle ev’ry cry, Captain Death!
And then we spread our sails, that are filled with welcome gales,
Singing, ‘Dead men tell no tales,
Captain Death! Captain Death!’
Singing, ‘Dead men tell no tales, Captain Death!’”

The surgeon shuddered as he collected together his instruments, and with a heart full of anxiety for the fate of himself and his companions proceeded to his cabin.

[CHAP. IX.]
CAPTAIN DEATH.

The Albatross was within a day’s sail of the shores of Madagascar, and as both Oriel Porphyry, Zabra, the professor, and the doctor, appeared desirous of giving their captors no cause of offence, they were better treated than they expected to have been. Zabra, more than all the others, seemed anxious to please the captain and his lieutenant; and the kindness of his disposition and the beauty of his music in a short time had such an influence upon their savage natures that their former distrust was completely obliterated, and they entertained something like a friendly feeling towards him. But Zabra had evidently some object in the course he was pursuing. He allowed no opportunity to escape by which he might win their confidence. He was continually doing some obliging offices for their gratification. He seemed to take a pleasure in their bold way of life, joined with them in its praise, and shared with them in its enjoyments. He handled their weapons with an air of bravery, and learned from them to shoot at a mark, and to cut and thrust with the sword; and there was such a loftiness in the enthusiasm he manifested on these occasions, that they invariably treated him with more respect than any of his fellow captives. But a close observer might have noticed that he often turned aside to conceal the disgust he entertained. When not within the observation of the pirates, his dark eyes flashed with indignation, and his beautiful mouth was compressed into an expression of scorn. He looked proudly around him, as if his spirit was exalted above the meaner natures with whom he was obliged to mingle. He loathed their fellowship. He abhorred their ways. And often, when the feeling of disdain with which he regarded these men seemed about to break forth into open acknowledgment, a glance towards the place where Oriel Porphyry stood, striving to control the contempt and hatred for the whole crew of ruffians, of whom he was a prisoner, that kept darting from his eyes, appeared sufficient to induce him to redouble his exertions to please the pirate chiefs.

They were all in the cabin, with the addition of Scrumpydike, or as he should now be styled, Lieutenant Rifle, and Log the captain’s clerk, the latter looking twice as important and twice as conceited as he used to be. Zabra sat leaning on his harp, near Oriel Porphyry, apparently absorbed in thought. The doctor and the professor were disputing upon some metaphysical subject, as if they had forgotten all their fears, and cared for nothing but triumphing over the other. The captain had been talking with his lieutenant upon the progress of the ship. Oriel sat proud and abstracted; and Log was intently engaged in eating and drinking as much of the good things on the table as lay within his reach.